


Sanscest/UTMV Oneshots (Vol. 1)

by AnnaRaeBanana



Series: UTMV Oneshots and Mini Stories [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikerverse (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Dreamtale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Errortale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Inktale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Momma CQ (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Reapertale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Angry Blue (Undertale), Brother Feels, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Caring Nightmare (Undertale), Concussions, Crying, Depressed Dream (Undertale), Depressing Themes, Depression, FGOD Error, Family Fluff, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Fluff, Forced God Of Destruction Error, Found Family, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Hinted ErrorInk (Undertale), Implied Cream/Xunshine (Undertale), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts, Injured Dream (Undertale), Inksomnia, Mentioned Dream (Undertale), Mentioned Dust (Undertale), Mentioned Geno (Undertale), Mentioned Lux (Undertale), Mentioned Nightmare (Undertale), Mentioned Skeleton Pregnancy, Minor Violence, Multi, Overprotective Cross, Panic Attacks, Party, Polyamorous relationship, References to Depression, Serious Injuries, Suicidal Dream (Undertale), Suicide Attempt, Wing Grooming, Wings, overprotective dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:40:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 44
Words: 69,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22932691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaRaeBanana/pseuds/AnnaRaeBanana
Summary: The title speaks for itself, does it not?***WARNING: MIGHT CONTAIN SCENES THAT TUG YOUR HEART, LANGUAGE, NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART, TALK ABOUT TOPICS SENSITIVE TO SOME PEOPLE AND OTHER THINGS.READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.
Relationships: Blue & Nightmare (Undertale), Blue & Stretch (Undertale), Cross & Dream (Undertale), Cross & Nightmare (Undertale), Dream & Blue (Undertale), Dream & Error (Undertale), Dream & Nightmare (Undertale), Error & Blue (Undertale), Error & Fresh (Undertale), Error & Geno & Fresh (Undertale), Error & Geno (Undertale), Error & Ink (Undertale), Error & Nightmare (Undertale), Error/Ink (Undertale), Error/Ink/Dream (Undertale), Fresh & Ink (Undertale), Hinted Error/Ink (Undertale), Horror & Nightmare (Undertale), Implied Cross/Dream (Undertale), Ink & Cross (Undertale), Ink & Dream (Undertale), Reaper & Error (Undertale), Reaper & Geno (Undertale), Reaper/Error (Undertale), Sans & Sans (Undertale), Sans/Sans (Undertale), Shattered Dream & Dream (Undertale), Stretch & Dream (Undertale)
Series: UTMV Oneshots and Mini Stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820191
Comments: 199
Kudos: 363





	1. Introduction

(Am I really doing this? Yes, yes I am. )

Yellow everyone! So, you can tell what this is by the title, so I won't bore you explaining. Though, I will say that I won't just be doing sanscest. I'll do platonic things as well, hence the 'UTMV'. This is mostly because I'm better at that than romance.

Now, before you continue, I want to ask you to please read the stuff underneath! This is what I will write as requests and what I won't, what ships I'll do and other things of the sort. I'll update this with other questions asked in the future, okay? So, be sure to come back and give this a skim.

**_RULES/IMPORTANT INFORMATION:_ **

**1\. Can I request stuff? If so, what can I request?**

Yes, you can request! I will do most characters, ships, genres, etc. But there is one thing I will not do: NSFW things. I'm sorry, but I mostly try to avoid it because reading or watching this kind of stuff makes me a bit uncomfortable. I might suggest it, but I won't actively write it, okay?

**2\. What if something you write makes me uncomfortable/offends me?**

If it makes you uncomfortable, then please skip over that oneshot. I don't want nor expect you to read it if you don't like it. If it offends you, then please tell me! I will try my best to find a way around it if I can, and if not, then I will either put a warning at the beginning or take the oneshot down. I don't want to offend anyone.

**3\. How can I tell if the relationship in a oneshot is platonic or romantic?**

Usually, if I say "Character A _&_ Character B", that means it is meant to be seen as platonic. This is especially true with Dream and Nightmare, as most of the time they will be brothers. However, if it is the _ship name_ (Ex. Errorink, Cream, etc.), or I say "Character A _x_ Character B", then it is meant to be seen as romantic. Overall, though, it is up to interpretation as I don't really care!

**4\. Will there be more than one part to a story? Like, will there be a second part to some?**

There will be as many parts as need be! Although, if it gets to be over four or five parts, I may move it into a story all on its own, okay? So, there will mostly be up to three-five parts.

I think that's all. If you have other questions, then please comment them and I will answer them here. 

With that, enjoy you're reading!


	2. Dream & Nightmare || Dark Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS IMPLIED SELF-HARM AND DEPRESSING THEMES.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

Nightmare looked down upon his brother. Dream sobbed on his knees, saying apologies over and over again. His clothing was torn and he was wounded; the biggest and most concerning one being hole in his shoulder. His bow had been snapped and lay a few feet away from the two.

Nightmare stared. His chest hurt, but he didn't understand why. The goal of these past years had always been to kill Dream. So, why does he hesitate now? When the other is vulnerable and too weak to fight back. He should do it. Just take a few steps forward and stab Dream with a tentacle. His tentacles twitched, seemingly agreeing with the thought. But he couldn't.

Something was holding him back. It could be, dare he say it, sentiment for Dream. Care for Dream. Love for Dream. Nightmare refused to believe it, though. He doesn't care. He couldn't care. The thought was laughable. And yet, the longer he stared at his brother, the more something ached. The more something grew. It took him a moment to place the emotion. Longing. Longing to be happy, to go back to happier times. Longing to be with Dream again.

Nightmare was confused with himself. Didn't he hate Dream? Wasn't Dream the reason he ate the apples all those years ago? Didn't Dream deserve to be punished? Deserve to die? No, he didn't. He never did. As Nightmare realized this, it felt like a fog had been lifted from his mind. All the emotions regarding Dream surged up inside. Worry. Guilt. Care. Love.

Nightmare took a step forward and Dream flinched. His brother raised his arms to try and calm the flow of tears and Nightmare froze. Dream's arms. His gloves had been badly ripped; they were both almost halved in length, revealing the bare bones beneath them. Bones that were covered in cuts, some years old and some a few days fresh. Nightmare knew what those were. He had seen people and monsters with scars like them. They all stemmed from the same feelings. Negative. So, why does Dream have the same cuts?

Well, it was obvious why. But Nightmare was under the impression that Dream would never go that far, even if he felt way down in the dumps. Then again, the positive ones do always hide their feeling the best, under a fake smile and smooth lies, don't they? But Dream and Nightmare could always see through their lies, as they could sense the true emotions.

Dream's aura was drenched with negativity. It was swirling with guilt, sadness, hurt and longing. But not the good longing, not the longing Nightmare felt. Not mostly. It leaned more towards a darker place. A place Nightmare had to snap him out of.

_"There is a boy, in the front of my class, who I swear I've never seen, do anything but laugh."_ Nightmare sang softly, taking another step forward. He watched Dream, who had stilled at his voice. _"He's tall and he's smart, beautiful and strong, and when someone's down, he tries to fix what is wrong."_

Another step forward. Dream stared at the ground by Nightmare's feet, silently crying. He knew that this song was addressed to him.

_"How does someone so perfect, feel so insecure? As to scar his bones with cuts and cuts, and still want to hurt more?"_

Step forward. Dream had raised his head a bit more, and stared at Nightmare's upper legs. He had gone very still, as if moving would break the illusion he was under.

_"How does someone so loving, learn to hate his own guts? Drawing a picture on his arm with a blade, as if his mind isn't dark enough."_

Two steps forward this time. Dream stared at Nightmare's chest, no longer crying.

_"There is a boy, in the front of my class, whose eyes are glazed over, like newly cut glass."_ Nightmare locked gazes with Dream, whose eyelights were indeed quite pale and fuzzy. _"The ghost of a smile, hints at his face, and they laugh as they tell him, 'who's on first base'"_

They both thought about the last time Dream truly smiled. The only time that came to mind was the last peaceful moment before Nightmare ate the apples. Now, Dream seemed to always fake a smile. Because that's what the guardian of positivity was supposed to do. Be happy all the time.

Nightmare stood in front of Dream, who found himself unable to look away.

_"How does someone so loving, learn to hate his own guts? Drawing a picture on his arm with a blade, as if his mind isn't dark enough."_

Neither one of the two moved.

_"There is a boy, in the front of my class, whose so sad, you find it rare to see him smile or laugh. His friends tell him jokes, like that one with the guy, but all he does is close his eyes, and enter his mind."_

Nightmare felt tears gather in his eyes. He had never expected this. Neither of the two did.

_"How does someone so perfect, feel so insecure? As to scar his bones with cuts and cuts, and still want to hurt more? How does someone so loving, learn to hate his own guts? Drawing a picture on his arm with a blade, as if his mind isn't dark enough, for his imperfections..."_

Nightmare kneeled down in front of Dream, so that they were both eye to eye. His own tears ran down his face. He forced his voice to stay steady.

_"There was a boy,"_ Dream's eyes widened a bit at the change of tense. He understood what happened before Nightmare sang it. " _in the front of my class, who yesterday took the breath, that was his last. He wrote a few notes..."_ Nightmare chocked a bit. He couldn't finish.

_"I'm sorry I didn't say,"_ Dream sang from in front of him, tears restarting. _"but my mind was messed up, you couldn't save me anyway. And to the boy in the back of the class, who felt the way I did..."_

The brothers smiled at each other, both broken and scarred. They finished the song together.

_"How does someone so perfect, feel so insecure? As to scar his bones with cuts and cuts, and still want to hurt more..."_


	3. Dream & Nightmare || Dream's Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT INCLUDES IMPLIED VIOLENCE.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Nightmare was in a good mood.

He had woken up to a quiet castle, his team off doing things on their own. Horror was visiting a friend of his in Underlust. Killer was sharpening his knives and looking for a new one. Dust was practicing his attacks in one of the training rooms. Cross was doing...something, Nightmare wasn't sure what. And Error was in his Anti-Void, most likely watching Undernovela.

As for himself, Nightmare was enjoying one of his few days off by taking a stroll in an AU he didn't care to look at the name of. It was night and was set on the surface, but that was all he cared for.

Being a king was a lot harder than it sounded like. You had to attend meetings, make sure your people didn't start a revolution, and you were always working. No matter what. But Nightmare made sure he had a few days a month to himself. Just enough that he didn't burn himself out, because he, unlike popular belief, did care for his mental health. He prided himself on that.

Now Dream, he was the opposite. He would gladly run himself into the ground if someone asked him to. The village was proof of that. But Dream, when asked if he was alright, would always smile and insist he was fine, even if he hadn't slept in weeks or eaten in days. Only if he couldn't do anything else, would he ask for help or admit that maybe he needed a rest. Most of those times Nightmare would have to drag him and throw him in a cell for a few days.

Nightmare sighed. His brother was an idiot, but he was Nightmare's idiot. He loved the younger twin dearly, could never stop, and deeply regretted hurting him. Which was why he was ever so grateful for the truce they made.

It had been a spur of the moment decision in the middle of a pretty bad fight. He had said something to Dream—he couldn't remember what now—and the other had froze. Completely froze; aura going almost nonexistent, eyelights disappearing and his bow had vanished. Nightmare remembers being surprised and suspicious. Then Dream had snapped. He had spilled his side of the story, which also made Nightmare realize that he wasn't the only one hurting. There were many tears spilled that day and many hugs too.

Their relationship was better now, perhaps better than it ever had been before. The others had been surprised at their truce, but as long as they held some freedom, they were alright with it. They supported it, even.

Nightmare took a deep breath, turning his head to stare at the sky. There were numerous stars out. It reminded him of a long time ago, when Dream and him would stargaze together instead of sleeping. He should do that again. Yes, he'll bring Dream here soon and they could—

The sound of a portal opening brought his attention away from the sky. Nightmare blinked, turning around as the portal closed and the skeleton who came through collapsed.

He blinked again, taking a step forward, looking closer. The skeleton was breathing heavily, and also seemed in pain with every breath. They seemed to be very low on magic, from what he could sense. They also had a circlet on their skull and a cape on their...he froze.

Dream. This was Dream. And he was hurt.

Forcing his legs to move, Nightmare rushed over to the other, panic and worry rising in him. He dropped to his knees and gently picked Dream up, leaning the younger against him as he looked him over for major injuries.

There was a bad crack on the back of Dream's skull, almost the entire width. It looked like it hurt and, based on Dream's whimper when he brushed over it, did. Dream probably had a concussion and, pairing that up with his low magic, that meant Nightmare couldn't let Dream fall asleep. There were a few other gashes and another crack on his shoulder. It was also safe to assume there were a few bruised or cracked ribs by his breathing. Besides that, there were lots of shallow and minuscule scratches that didn't matter as much.

"Dream?" Nightmare said, shifting the other to look him in the eye. Dream's eyelight's were very fuzzy and he seemed to be trying to focus, which further proved Nightmare's theory about a concussion. "Dream, can you hear me?"

Dream blinked hard and slow, squinting at Nightmare, who felt the worry intensify and concern begin to well up also. However, Dream seemed to recognize him, as he shifted and mumbled, "N...Night..."

"Yes, it's me," Nightmare cut the other off, not wanting him to waste his energy. "can you tell me what happened?"

Dream blinked again. His eyelight's fuzzed greatly, almost going nonexistent before refocusing. "There was a...a..." Dream trailed off, leaning into Nightmare more. "...m'tired..."

"I know, I know," Nightmare shifted Dream again, panic filling him too. He needed to keep Dream awake. "but you can't sleep. Not yet. Now, what happened?" _Please stay awake_ , Nightmare thought to himself, his mind beginning to think of what to do.

Dream pouted, but obeyed Nightmare's unspoken wish. "There was a fight..."

"With who?"

"D'know...can't remember..."

"Okay, that's fine," Nightmare said, mostly to try and calm himself down, even as the anger at someone hurting his brother began to grow. He needed to call for help, as he couldn't heal, or at least he had to bring someone here.

He could ask for Dream's phone, call Ink or Blue and wait for them. But those two didn't trust him quite yet and the feeling was mutual, so he hesitated. He had no way of contacting his team, and even if he did, they couldn't teleport between AU's so they would be useless.

So that left...

Nightmare fished around in his jacket, eventually pulling a blue string out. He fumbled around with it, breaking it more harshly than he intended too, but that didn't concern him, as he was more alarmed with how limp Dream had become.

"Dream? Dream! Dream, brother? Dream, wake up! Dream! Wake up!"


	4. Dream & Nightmare || When He Cries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS IMPLIED SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, A SUICIDE ATTEMPT, IMPLIED SELF-HARM AND SCENES THAT MAY TUG YOUR HEART.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Nightmare, if you asked him, would say that yes, he did believe in black and white.

That the world was separated into two types of people: good and bad. He was bad, negative, so that meant everyone had to hate him and that he had to never care about anyone else. However, his brother was the opposite. Dream was good, positive, and that meant that everyone loved him and he loved everyone else.

Nightmare hated it. He hated how he was the bad one when he didn't do a damn thing to deserve it, whereas Dream was loved without even trying. He hated it. He hated Dream. Dream should be the one hated, not him.

Or so he had said about a year ago, when his world was normal and grounded, and not this raging sea frozen over, about to crack with the wrong word or action.

* * *

**Little boy terrified**

**He'd leave his room if only bruises would heal**

* * *

Right in the middle of September, just a few weeks into their final year of high school, Nightmare felt something off.

He had been feeling it for a while now, but he brushed it off every time. But now it was too big to ignore. However, he had no way to pinpoint where the feeling was coming from, or why he had it. Nightmare was frustrated.

His friends noticed, and once told of the feeling he had, started to look closely at their surroundings. They had figured that he probably had this feeling because of something or someone around them, which made sense. However, they had no luck as of yet.

And it was around this time in September, that Nightmare noticed that the feeling made itself known when Dream and his friends were within eyesight.

So, the next logical step would be to closely watch them to see why they made him feel like this. If, of course, they weren't good people, because good people couldn't possibly have something wrong with them. They were good. They were perfect.

So, the feeling must be wrong to say that there was something off with them.

* * *

**A home is no place to hide**

**His heart is breaking from the pain that he feels**

* * *

As they progressed into November (Halloween was awesome, by the way, though Dream did stay locked in his room for that day and the weekend after), Nightmare was once again distracted with his feeling, which had seemed to lock itself onto Dream, for some reason.

Dream had seemed pretty normal to him. He was all smiley and optimistic and positive, so much that Nightmare wanted to throw up whenever he was around him.

Dream was as good as he had always been, so why did the feeling attach itself to him?

Sure, Dream had these bags under his eyes, but that was probably because he stayed up too late chatting with his friends or playing video games. Same with the way he walked slowly, like there was a weight on his back; it was probably a side effect of the sleep loss. As Dream was good, and good people don't get affected with negativity.

Yes, that was it. His feeling must still be mistaken. He should just ignore it. It'll go away eventually.

But if that was the case, then why, when he was in bed falling asleep, with the sounds of muffled sobs coming from Dream's room next to him (Dream was probably comforting a classmate), did his belief of black and white sound so wrong now?

* * *

**Every day's the same**

**He fights to find his way**

**He hurts, he breaks,**

* * *

(Deep down inside of Nightmare, he knew it wasn't a classmate making those sobs, but if it wasn't, then who was? Dream was good, positive. Dream never cried. He couldn't, unless he was scared or didn't get his way. So, who was crying?)

* * *

**He hides, and tries to pray**

**He wonders why,**

**Does anyone ever hear him when he cries?**

* * *

Tomorrow is their birthday. They'll be turning eighteen.

Nightmare is relieved. Now, he'll finally be a legal adult, which means he doesn't need his parent's permission to do anything. He could finally drink, smoke, do drugs, anything he wanted. Dream, on the other hand, seemed to hunch in on himself when their birthday was mentioned.

(Odd. Dream had always been excited for their birthday, as it was the one-day Nightmare hung out with him willingly.)

As Nightmare realized this, he also began to notice that Dream had been sleeping more lately. He used to be up very early every day, even on the weekends, but now he slept in until he was almost late for school. He looked tired all day at school and seemed to zone out more too, especially at lunch, where he barely nibbled on some food.

That wasn't the weirdest thing. Though, Dream also seemed to have his shoulders hunched up regularly, whereas before he always had almost perfect posture. He also seemed to focus on homework instead of his hobbies and friends.

Nightmare recalled seeing some of Dream's poems and songs in the kitchen trash. Dream liked to write, saying he was going to write tons of books that helped people be happy. When he took them out of the trash to inspect them, he saw scribbles and black smudges that obscured the writing, though Nightmare could faintly see 'my fault' as one of the things being repeated over and over again.

He had tried to confront Dream about it. Dream had laughed. (The laugh seemed a bit hollow and forced. Why?)

"They weren't good, Nightmare," Dream had said, playing with the end of his sweater sleeve. "so, I threw them away."

"But wouldn't you have wanted to keep them as references? Y'know, to see how you improved?" Nightmare had asked in return. As he said that, Dream's eyes had unfocused a bit, taking on a glassy texture.

Dream mumbled something that Nightmare couldn't hear, then his eyes snapped into focus and he smiled, a big grin that would seem fake to a blind man. "Maybe. But those ones, in particular, I could let go of. They were so bad!"

Dream had left quickly before Nightmare could ask more questions. Nightmare watched him go, the usual anger he felt from Dream saying something so ignorant gone. Which was weird. Nightmare should be scowling, fuming about how Dream wouldn't know a thing about self-criticism, as Dream was so perfect, he thought anything he did was perfect.

Another thing, Nightmare realized now, looking back on it, when had Dream started wearing long sleeves so frequently? Nightmare thought back on the year and realized that Dream hadn't worn a t-shirt since last January.

Odd. So many odd things. Now, Nightmare wasn't so sure his feeling was wrong.

* * *

**Today he's turning eighteen**

**Everyone's singing, but he can't seem to smile**

**They never get past arm's length**

**How could they act like everything is alright?**

* * *

Nightmare couldn't help but watch Dream at their birthday party.

Most of the town was there, including their friends. Nightmare had danced and laughed with his gang before he realized that Dream was standing a corner alone. Blue and Ink, Dream's closest friends were dancing together a few feet away. Dream seemed to watch them with a pained expression on his face.

Dream met Nightmare's eyes and immediately straightened, pulled away from the wall and scurried upstairs. Nightmare watched him disappear, about to follow him, when Killer shoved a drink into his hand and pulled him away.

(Deep down, the feeling he had split into two, one still feeling something off and the other filled with worry and concern for Dream. Nightmare wouldn't realize this for another few days.)

* * *

**Pulling down his long sleeves**

**To cover all the memories that scars leave**

**He says, "Maybe making me bleed**

**Will be the answer that could wash the slate clean."**

* * *

(Nightmare was drunk after the party, thanks to his friends. But once the party ended, at around five in the morning, he stumbled upstairs to his bed, not registering the sobs and pain-filled noises coming from the bathroom.)

* * *

**Every day's the same**

**He fights to find his way**

**He hurts, he breaks,**

**He hides, and tries to pray**

**He wonders why,**

**Does anyone ever hear him when he cries?**

* * *

Dream didn't come out of his room after the party for days. Their mother didn't notice, saying he was probably busy. Nightmare noticed, though.

He noticed the crying that almost seemed to never stop. The mumbling to one's self, though he couldn't make out the words. The lack of footsteps that meant no one left the bed and the sound of the mattress and bed as someone tossed and turned, the only sounds to say someone was alive.

Sometimes Nightmare caught himself standing in front of Dream's door, hand raised to knock. He never did. He always walked away, convincing himself that something else was going on, that Dream was still perfect.

That didn't stop the guilt from showing up once he entered his room.

Once Dream did leave his room, he acted normal. He didn't look tired, he looked light and his smile and laugh seemed real. Nightmare couldn't stop staring at him. For some reason, this was ringing too many alarms in his head to make him ignore it. Dream was acting to calm and too happy.

Nightmare didn't get a chance to talk to him, though. Horror came and dragged him to his place for a New Years' party. Guess the talk will have to wait till next year.

* * *

**This is the dark before the dawn**

* * *

(Nightmare couldn't help but think about Dream's goodbye. He said, "See you!" That's it. Just those two words. Not "See you later!" or "See you soon!" or even the running joke of "See you next year!" Just "See you!" For some reason, this rang the biggest alarm in his head. But why?)

* * *

**Don't be afraid**

**The seasons change**

* * *

"10!"

As everyone began to count down, Nightmare found himself thinking of Dream again. He couldn't stop, especially now that the alarms had been going off in his head.

"9!"

But why did the alarms go off now? Why was his feeling getting so strong now?

"8!"

Dream was good. But maybe he wasn't perfect.

"7!"

Maybe Dream could feel negative thoughts. Maybe those thoughts dragged him down.

"6! 5!"

Even so, why the alarms?

"4!"

Why did he feel he had to go back?

"3!"

That he had to check on Dream?

"2!"

Why? Why, why, why?

"1!"

And then, just as the clock turned to midnight and everyone around him shouted, everything clicked into place.

Depression. A mental disorder that is often described as numbness or "living in a black hole" or just sadness, overwhelming sadness and despair. Nightmare knew a few kids in the school that struggled with depression, like Comic. He knew the signs and symptoms. He also knew that most people who have it put on a false smile and made everyone around them happy while they slowly drowned.

And that fit Dream to a T. It all made sense now. Why he looked so tired, so heavy. Why there were sobs coming from his room almost every night. Why he was so calm today.

Nightmare didn't realize that he had dropped his glass and that people were asking if he was okay. He could only focus on Dream. Dream, who was so calm and happy today. Dream, who had said "See you!" as a goodbye. Dream, who was very likely trying to kill himself right now.

"I have to go." Nightmare said, not paying attention to any answers as he rushed out the door and into the snow. He stood there for a bit, cursing himself as he realized he couldn't run in this, but he had to try.

A hand on his arm stopped him, turning him around to face the person. "Nightmare, what are you doing?" Cross asked, near shouting in his ear.

Nightmare breathed heavily, panic beginning to well up inside of him. "I have to get home, Cross, I have to."

Cross blinked, tightening his grip when Nightmare tried to escape. "What? Why? Nightmare, calm down, and—"

"I can't calm down, Cross!" Nightmare growled. "I have to get home before my idiot brother kills himself!

Silence rang. Cross was taken aback, no doubt expecting something far less serious. Nightmare struggled in his grip, trying to break free. He had to get home. He had to stop Dream. He couldn't lose him. He—

"Okay, get in."

Nightmare blinked. Cross had let go of him and walked over to his car, unlocking it and opening the passenger seat. He stared at Nightmare; his face dead serious.

Nightmare hurried over. He wasn't going to question it right now.

The ride over was silent and speedy, but neither of them cared. They just wanted to get there in time. Cross abruptly parked in front of Nightmare's house. Nightmare quickly got out, pausing before closing the car door and rushing inside.

"Thank you."

"Don't. Just stop him." And then Cross drove off.

* * *

**And the Stars are watching over you**

**They hear you**

* * *

Nightmare rushed upstairs, glancing quickly to Dream's bedroom door, which was open and the room luckily empty of hanging bodies. He shivered. He stopped in front of the bathroom, the next place he could be.

Nightmare felt panic overtake him, his hand shook as he raised it to knock. He couldn't do this. He couldn't stop Dream. What if Dream was already dead? Did he overdose? Drown himself? Cut himself? He can't. Can't, can't, can't, can't, ca—

Two gentle knocks. "Dream?"

His voice was weak and threatened to crack. Nightmare took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Panicking wouldn't do good to either of them at the moment.

"Dream?" He said again, laying his hand on the door as a grounding. It was silent on the other side. "Dream, I...Can we...I—I...You...Fuck, I'm bad at this." Nightmare laughed weakly, tears starting to flow. He rested his forehead on the door.

"Dream, do you remember, on our fifth birthday? That night you asked me something, y—you asked me, 'Night, when we're older, are we always gonna be there for each other?'. I said yes. That, of course, we would be. We even pinky promised that." Nightmare fell to his knees, forehead and hand still on the door. "Maybe, we didn't live up to that. Maybe, we could have tried harder. I could have tried harder.

"But Dream, I love you, so much. So, so much. You can't possibly begin to imagine it. I know I don't say it as often as I should. I know that, I probably made you feel alone. But I love you. I love you with the strength of a billion suns. I don't want...I don't want to wake up tomorrow and find that you're gone. I don't want to have to look at your room in remembrance every day. I don't want to have to bury my best friend before his time."

Nightmare held back a sob and watched the door with pleading eyes, his vision blurry from tears. "I know you're hurting. I know you feel alone, like everyone looks through you, not at you. But...b—but...you're beautiful. So please don't go. You are loved so much more than you know. That's why you're beauti...ful..."

Nightmare trailed off. He didn't have anything else to say. God, he was so bad at this. Then, though it was faint, he heard it. A sob. No from him, but from the other side of the door.

Nightmare pulled back from the door, his eyes wide with tears still streaming down. There was a clatter, like something metal having fallen to the ground. There was also some shuffling, like someone getting up, which prompted Nightmare to stand as well.

A click. The door was unlocked and it slowly opened.

Dream was shaking badly, tears streaming from his face faster than the ones on Nightmares'. His eyes were dull, so full of pain and sadness that it made Nightmare's heart constrict in sympathy. Nightmare tried to smile, and it probably worked, as Dream sobbed once more before reaching forward, Nightmare reaching as well.

They wrapped each other in a tight hug, Dream sobbing and whispering apologies, Nightmare shushing him and whispering comforting words. They both fell to their knees again. Nightmare tightened his hold, like if he let go the other would disappear.

And, Nightmare thought, pressing a kiss to Dream's forehead before Dream buried his face in Nightmare's shoulder, prompting Nightmare to start rubbing his back in comfort, he was just so glad he made it in time.

* * *

**Every day's the same**

**He fights to find his way**

**He hurts, he breaks,**

**He hides, and tries to pray**

* * *

They both decided Dream would sleep in Nightmare's room for now, until they both felt comfortable sleeping in opposite rooms again.

Dream was sleeping lightly now, tear tracks still visible on his face, curled up beside Nightmare on his bed. Nightmare had an arm around Dream, tucking him in close. He smiled at it, relief still filling him.

In his other hand, his phone buzzed, drawing his attention to it. Nightmare blinked. It was a text message from Cross.

_C: Is Dream okay?_

Nightmare smiled a bit. Cross was a good friend and Nightmare knew that he cared about Dream greatly, perhaps more than friends would. He would help getting Dream back on his feet. Nightmare typed out a quick reply.

_N: Yes, I got to him just in time. Thanks again for the ride._

_C: No problem._

_C: That's what friends are for, right?_

_N: Yes, "Friends"_

_N: But seriously, thank you._

_N: I don't think I would have made it without your help._

It took Cross a moment to type back, the three dots appearing and disappearing again.

_C: Don't mention it._

_C: But, uh, we're going to have to talk._

_C: Everyone's sort of wondering where you went? Why you left in a rush??_

_C: What do you want me to tell them?_

Nightmare paused. He didn't think of that. Dream shifted beside him, lifting his head to squint at the phone.

"'s it Cross?" He said, voice slurring from sleepiness.

"Yes." Nightmare smiled a bit but hesitated to tell him the rest. "He's asking what to tell the others, as I left the house in rush and Cross drove me."

Dream was silent. His eyes had unfocused again. Nightmare grew a bit worried, however, he knew there wasn't anything he could do. He couldn't control Dream's mind, and even if he could, he wouldn't.

Finally, Dream shook his head and buried his head into Nightmare's chest. "He can tell them what happened."

Nightmare bit his lip. "Are you sure?"

Dream nodded.

Nightmare sighed and began to text Cross back.

_N: Dream says you can tell then what happened._

_N: But leave out some major details, okay?_

_C: Are you sure?_

_N: Yes. Dream will need a support system._

_N: Who better than his friends?_

_C: Okay, as long as you're sure._

Nightmare shut his phone off and let his hand drop to the bed. Dream had fallen back asleep, his hand grabbing Nightmare's tightly. Nightmare smiled again and let himself hope.

He knew that Dream would be okay again.

* * *

**He'll be just fine**

**Cause I know he hears him when he cries**

* * *

The rest of the year passed without another major problem. Dream did get into a few funks, but Nightmare sat with him and watched movies with him until it passed.

Their friends had made it their duty to start a group chat with all of them, one rule being that you have to send a wholesome meme as soon as you woke up, to remind the others about the good in the world. The group chat had helped Dream out greatly, and Nightmare too.

Nightmare also worked up the courage to confront Dream about the long sleeves, even if he already knew the answer. Dream had started crying and let Nightmare roll up his sleeves, muttering apologies as he traced over the cuts. Nightmare had smiled and said that he was fine, that the scars showed how brave Dream truly was. That made Dream cry even harder. They spent the rest of that day hugging and cuddling.

Dream got progressively happy as the year wore on. His smiles were genuine and true, his laugh felt like bells. He even started writing again, after Nightmare had mentioned that he could write how he felt, in a therapeutic way. Dream had had wide eyes after Nightmare said that, saying he never thought of it like that.

Nightmare helped Dream the most. He was there every step of the way. The two were as close as they were when they were children, perhaps even more so. This all was proven as they graduated, Nightmare clapping the loudest for Dream, smiling so wide.

Yes, everything was great.

* * *

**Every day's the same**

**He fights to find his way**

**He hurts, he breaks,**

**He hides, and tries to pray**

**He'll be just fine,**

**Cause I know he hears her when he cries**

* * *

Nightmare, if you asked him, would say that yes, he did believe in black and white.

Or so he had said about a year ago, when his world was normal and grounded, not this uneasy place that cracked with every action he made.

Now, if you were to ask him, he would smile sadly.

"Imagine," He would say, "imagine two people. One was so bubbly, they bounced in place. They helped everyone they could. They hated seeing another person sad. They were the epitome of positivity. The other, however, wasn't. They dragged their feet where ever they went, slouching too. They brought down the mood of every room they were in. They were the epitome of negativity.

"Now, out of these two, who would be the sicker person? Who would have anxiety, depression, the likes of them? Who would be more suicidal? You would think the negative one, right? But you see, what the personality they have on the outside, doesn't always match to the one on the inside. The positive one could have a negative mind, whereas the negative one could have a positive mind.

"So, no I don't believe in black and white, rather I believe in everything in-between. It's just a shame I had to realize it the hard way, that people shouldn't judge something based on how it appears."


	5. Error & Dream || Pan's Lullaby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS LANGUAGE.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

Error hadn't met Dream one on one before.

They fought, yes, but this was mostly because of Ink. Dream was a part of Ink's team, The Star Sanses (which was a pretty stupid name, in Error's opinion), so they had naturally been enemies. If it hadn't been for that, the two probably wouldn't have met.

That being said, from what Error had seen Dream was fairly happy and upbeat. He was the Guardian of Positivity, so it was a given he would positive. Sometimes, the happiness that radiated of him would get on Error's nerve and annoy him, but Dream was the most tolerant of the trio, so he ignored it.

Nightmare, however, seemed to hate Dream with a burning passion. From the few conversations Error had with him, he seemed to always see Dream as this thorn in his side, someone who was so perfect, so naive, that he didn't care about anyone in his shadow. Nightmare usually went off on a rant about Dream, with Error only half-listening.

("Like, honestly, how can someone be so blind?! Am I right, Error?... Error?"

"Hmm."

"...you're not listening, are you?"

"Nope.")

So, Error decided to just assume that Dream was a happy person who had his life together, with almost no hardships bothering him.

He was so, so wrong.

* * *

It was late in the day and Error had just gotten back to his Anti-Void. He immediately flopped on his beanbag and let out a yawn.

It had been a long, but satisfying, day of destroying and avoiding Ink. Though, it was surprisingly easy to avoid the soulless creator, as he hadn't appeared all day. It made Error paranoid, expecting Ink to jump out and scare him at any moment. But he didn't.

Error didn't dwell on it for too long, though. It was good for his work in the long run. Now, there were twenty or so less AUs (Abominations) in the Multiverse.

Error's eyes opened backup as the voices started, interrupting his potential sleep. He groaned.

"Shut up!" He shouted to the nothing around him, his voice glitching all over the place. The voices didn't listen; instead, they got louder, urging him to do too many things at once. "God Damnit, just SHUT UP ALREADY!"

Error panted slightly in anger; fists tightly clenched. The voices finally quieted, which made him breathe a quiet sigh of relief. However, he was now wide awake and most likely wouldn't be sleeping for a while yet.

So, Error got up and made a portal to the only AU he really liked: Outertale.

He had found Outertale by accident a long time ago. Full of anger, rage, hatred, and strangely enough, betrayal, but for the life of him Error can't remember why. He was ready to destroy whatever world he ended up in.

Then, he looked up and saw the thousands upon thousands of stars decorating the sky.

* * *

_It was so beautiful. Red, pink, purple, blue: he could see them all and so many more. He was awed. Excited. At peace. He closed his eyes and sat down, breathing deeply, relaxed for the first time since he escaped that wretched white void he calls home._

_He didn't want to go back._

_But something was wrong._

_It was too pretty. Too distracting, too peaceful. Too much. It burned. It pained him, glitches pouring into his eyes, pieces of his body breaking off before slamming back into place. Hurts, hurts, hurts. Gen—Error screamed—_

* * *

Error shook his head to clear the memory from his mind. He rocked back on his heels, staring up at the stars above.

He had avoided this place for a while after that, but eventually found himself drawn back. Each time he came, the more he felt like it was a place to relax, not one that meant to cause him harm. His crashes and little attacks he had slowly decreased until they disappeared. Now, he came here whenever he was down, stressed, angry, anything really.

And the stars never stopped shining, never stopped being beautiful.

Error sighed and made his way to his spot. There was a cliff, and if you looked down, you would see just blackness. But if you looked up, you had a clear view of the stars. It was the perfect spot, as no one but Error knew about it.

Except, that apparently wasn't true.

Error blinked. There was someone in his spot. At first, anger filled him, urging him to go over and demand his spot back. Maybe even kill whatever abomination found it, so that way no one could tell about his spot. Until he heard it.

Humming. And crying.

Whoever found his spot was humming, yet they were stumbling as they kept interrupting themselves with sobs and sniffles. They had a steady voice, anyways.

Error found himself in a sort of trance. The humming was quite...pleasing, if he was honest. He had to get closer, had to see who this person was. So, he walked closer. One, two, three steps and he saw them. They had their back turned to Error, but he didn't care about that, or the cape around their shoulders, or the crown on their—

Error blinked.

And again.

There was no way. His mind had to be playing tricks on him. Right? Right. There was no way that was—

"Dream?" Error spoke before he could stop himself. He tensed.

The person jumped and gasped, cutting their humming off. They quickly wiped at their tears and turned around.

Error was right. It was Dream. But, how? Why? This conflicted with everything Error had known about him. He was so confused. What if this was a trick? A trap? But if that was the case, he would have been attacked already. And those tears didn't seem to be fake.

The two held a staring contest for a bit.

Then, Dream wiped the tears away, not that it worked, scrambling onto his feet. "E-Error!" He said, trying to smile through. "I-I'm so so-sorry! I didn't know this was your place."

Error was silent, watching Dream.

Dream hiccupped, trying to wipe some more tears away. "I-I'll, uh...I'll go. I don't want to be i-in your way..." He reached out and summoned a portal. He moved to go through but was stopped.

"Stay."

Dream paused, blinking. Error blinked too. He wasn't supposed to say anything. He was supposed to just let Dream leave so that he could have his spot back. And yet...at the same time, he didn't' want Dream to leave. It was confusing.

Error decided to just roll with it. He walked to the ledge and sat down in the spot Dream was before. He felt the positive being's eyes on him.

"W-What?" Dream stuttered.

"I said, stay." Error reaffirmed, a hint of annoyance in his voice. Dream was silent. Error felt a blush grow on his cheeks and he huffed. "Listen, you can stay, just don't make it weird, okay?!"

Error directed his focus to watching the stars. He didn't care whether Dream accepted his offer or not. Soon enough, though, he heard the portal close and Dream sit down next to him, a comfortable distance between them.

They watched the stars together for a bit, each lost in their own thoughts. Error heard Dream start crying again.

He sighed. "What's wrong?"

"H-huh?"

"I can hear you thinking from over here, and you don't exactly cry silently. So," He looked over at Dream, locking eyes. "what's wrong?"

Dream looked away. "I-It's nothing..."

"Bullshit!" Error hissed, making Dream jump. "I'm trying to be nice here, so just tell me what's wrong so we can watch the stars in peace and quiet?!" Error was losing his patience.

Dream was silent for a bit. Error huffed and prepared to give up, when the other spoke softly.

"Today is December 21st...mine and Nightmare's birthday."

Error blinked. He didn't expect that. If anything, he was expecting something trivial that dream was just complaining about because he was so perfect, he didn't have time for it. Apparently, he was wrong.

"And..." Dream continued, staring at his lap. "It's also been 1,000 years since the Apple Incident. 700 of which I spent in a stone prison, unable to move, see, hear, or speak."

Error paused at that. He knew that the guardians had been around for a long time, Nightmare had bragged about it constantly, but he didn't expect it to be that long. It was almost mind-blowing. And to spend 700 years alone with only your thoughts...well, it reminded Error of his time in the Anti-Void.

At this moment, Error felt like he understood Dream more than anyone else. They were both stuck in a place with just their thoughts, and even if Error could've still moved and spoken, he had the impression that Dream's thoughts eventually started to scream back at him too.

"I-I'm sorry," He heard Dream speak again and looked over. Dream had a sad smile on his face that looked strained. He looked tired. "for putting my problems on you, I—"

"Stop apologizing." Error commanded, all animosity gone from his voice, replaced with a hint of gentleness.

"Sor—...okay."

They directed their gaze back to the stars. Something new was between them, a connection of sorts. They knew that the other understood, but they didn't need to say it out loud. They just...knew.

"That song you were humming before, does it have any words?"

"Ah...I think so, but I've long forgotten them."

"...can you still sing it again?"

"Okay."

They sat there together, the stars gleaming and a pleasant song filling the air. They both felt warm at having made a new...friend.


	6. Dream || Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS IMPLIED SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, IMPLIED SELF-HARM, DEPRESSION, MAYBE SUICIDE IDEATION AND SCENES THAT MIGHT TUG AT YOUR HEART.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Dream knows that hope is a foolish thing.

He knows that it can hurt. That the more you hope for, the more hope is lost. The bigger you hope, the bigger the disappointment. It distorts reality. It floats out of reach. It makes you believe that things will be alright when it is very likely they won't be.

He knows this. Knows that, despite everything, you keep hoping. You learn to create hope so big, you can live inside it. You learn to become consumed by hope. Become blinded by it. That way, you are safe. No one can take your hope away. You keep hoping and hoping, your hopes getting higher and higher.

Until...

You get carried away.

You become a glimmer of hope for others, never tending to your own hopes. Basically, giving up yourself to help others. Strangers. Disappearing into a world where you are so blind, so naïve to the reality of the people around you. Float off into a bright cloud of hope, becoming consumed by it until your inevitable crash with reality.

* * *

Dream has wanted to give up before. Many times, in fact.

An interesting thing for the Guardian of Positivity to say, huh?

But it's true. He knows how it feels to get so lost in your thoughts that they stray. They stray out of the light, gathering specks of darkness until you get lost in a sea of bleak things. Dangerous things.

(It's at these times that he finds himself standing on a cliff. Watching whatever is beneath him. Danger filling him and alarms ringing in his mind. He ignores those signs and stands there. He's lost. Has been for a long—)

He tries to ignore them. Sometimes, he even tries to use his own aura to calm himself down. To make him think of happier things. Happier times.

...It doesn't work.

(Like when he wakes up on the verge of screaming. The bad thoughts are at their strongest then. He tries, tears running wild and his chest feeling tight. His aura lights up the room, a soft golden glow that is very pretty for those observing, if there was anyone. It never works. Of course, it doesn't. He's meant to help others, not himself. That would be selfish and—)

When his thoughts spiral, they tend to turn to Nightmare.

It's a weird thing. He feels like he's lost someone, someone who might be gone forever, left him alone and turned to dust a long time ago and yet he sees this person almost every day. Like their here, yet they're not. It's agony.

Is there a word for it? When you lost something, yet it's right in front of you? Probably not. There should.

He misses Nightmare. Not the one he sees now, but his Nightmare. His brother, not this mockery of him. The one who was happy and confident and nice. The one who took care of him, read him stories, played with him, made sure he remembered to eat. He misses those times. He yearns to go back, but with that yearning comes the bad thoughts, and he would rather avoid them if he could.

The Nightmare of now hates him. These thoughts hurt him. They make him want to curl up and wait for the world to open up beneath him and swallow him. But he knows they're true. He sees it with every hit, every glare, every fight, every encounter. Every argument, every blame, every word, everything. It seems he couldn't escape it if he tried, not that he will.

Something inside of himself always says that it's his fault that Nightmare is this way now. This part says that if he tried harder, if he had stayed with him more, if he had simply not been an idiot. Maybe it's right. Maybe it's not.

(He believes that it is.)

* * *

Dream knows that hope is a reckless thing.

He knows that when it consumes you, blinds you, you lose sense of what is appropriate. What is right at the right times. It can make you see things the way you want to see things, not the way things are. For example, you will try to give mercy to something that has not shown to understand nor want it. You will try to give mercy to something that hates you.

He knows this. Knows that, despite everything, you keep hoping. You learn to take their words and ignore them, no matter if it hurts and stings you. You learn to become so overtaken by hope, so full of it, that you spill over. Become a fountain for everyone to take from.

Until...

You run dry.

After you crash back to reality, people will fuss. Not over you, but over their source of hope, because they are too lazy, selfish or stubborn to create their own. This may sound nice, but it will not help. You will get worse. Your hope will disappear until only a spark remains. Then, it will continue to fade away until it extinguishes entirely.

* * *

Dream fights the Nightmare of now because it is his job. People need him to.

He doesn't want to. Not really. Because, though he is a mockery of his brother and not the real one, he still bears his name and his body. So, it almost feels as though he is entitled to care about him. To try and save him, almost die trying. But it's the wrong one.

He wants to save his brother. Not this impersonator.

(Though, there are times that he has seen some hesitation on his face. Which is weird. He hates him. Why would he hesitate to fight, hesitate to hit, hesitate to hurt? It doesn't make sense. It confuses him. Why would he care about—)

He thinks lots. If this imposter is here, does that mean Nightmare is dead? Or is he trapped? Hidden? If that's the case, does he need him to come to find him? To save him? Does he even want his help? Does he hate him? Blame him?

He tries to stop his thoughts before they go off.

...It doesn't work.

(Like when he holds the one knife in his hands. He's sitting alone in his room, which is dark, as it is most of the time. A perfect contrast. He plays with the knife. Twisting, turning, twisting turning. Cutting. The gold of his blood well up from the accidental cut on his finger. His gazes slips from it to his arm, hidden under his glove. He wonders if—)

Sometimes, he gets overwhelmed.

When this happens, time disappears. It's a challenge for when this happens during battle. He tries his best, but he suspects that his opponent notices when he stumbles suddenly, looking frantic and breathing beginning to speed up. Then again, his opponent hates him, so he might brush it off. Whatever happens, things haven't changed.

After battle, he will retreat into his room until this passes. He doesn't know how long it takes; he never keeps track. Once, his friends got really worried about him. They knocked on the lots of times that day. Eventually, he came out of his room, smiling like always.

He suspects they know he's not alright, that he's never been alright.

He'll never confront them. If he does, he'll be admitting something is wrong. That he is wrong. Which he isn't. He's not hurt. He's not cracked. And he's definitely not broken. That would be dangerous, if he was. It would mean the thoughts were right.

It would mean his thoughts, both bad and good and that other part that's directed inwards, is right.

(It's his fault. His fault. His fault. His fault, his fault, his fault his fault hisfaulthisfaulthis—)

* * *

Dream knows that hope is a determined thing.

He knows this. He doesn't think he's too determined, though. He gives up too easily. He also knows, that if you feed hope correctly, it can become a raging fire. A fire so big, you are consumed by it. Though...you are not blinded by this. This one makes you stronger, makes you feel invincible.

He knows this. His hope isn't this one, nor is it foolish or reckless. He's not sure what it is. It feels like poison. Like it slips in his soul and thrives off everything he pushes down. Your fiery hope can become like this if you don't stop feeding it. Give it enough, and it will kill you.

Until...

You let go.

You drop this poison and let it slither away, looking for someone new to fall victim. It's in its nature. After this, you will start again. You will go through a loop of making a fire, fanning its spark, lose control, and let go. This is it. There is no escaping.

* * *

Dream makes a mistake, eventually. He knew he would.

He had been losing control recently. His thoughts slipping through, getting out of hand. He had to upgrade to longer, darker gloves. His friends are concerned; he can see them staring at him when he zones out in the living room. It's hard to mask that.

He tries. He makes his smiles wider, his tone happier. He spends all day like this, even falling asleep with a smile stapled to his face, which stings. Tears are an urge he pushes away. If he indulges, he'll be left with evidence. That can't happen. People will fuss. They always do. He hates it.

(He hates himself more. It doesn't surprise him when his thoughts turn inwards, that one part of his mind taking control. It's almost nice. It makes him feel something. For once.)

He remembers that he tried talking before, a long time ago, with his only friend besides his brother in the village. He had had fewer problems then. Though, he had enough to not be okay. He was far worse now. He was past fixing, probably.

So, he had to stay silent. If he is, maybe he'll get through it.

...It doesn't work.

(Like when his friends tried to help him. He had been backed into a corner. They had ambushed him, caught him off guard, which was quite hard to do. They shared their concerns, hoping to get through to him. He had stayed silent. He had to. If he talked, things would get worse. He will get through it by himself. He doesn't need to burden—)

It was during a fight with Nightmare that he made the mistake.

He couldn't remember entering the fight, or what exactly happened. He only remembered slipping. Something falling off his tongue, out his mouth before he could stop it. He had frozen; his opponent had frozen. The battle had frozen, become quite cold, almost too cold to breathe in.

He remembers panicking. Teleporting away. Away from arms that tried to stop him. Away from his past. Away from his mistake. He had curled up somewhere cold, shivering, arms around his skull, crying. Nobody came. That was good.

He eventually calmed enough to disappear into his mind. It was like he fell asleep, but his eyes were open. He had shut down completely.

(His thoughts were his only company now. They screamed.)

* * *

Dream knows hope is a fragile thing.

He knows this. Thoughts can taint it. Thoughts can poison it. Doubt can tear it. Worry can cut it up. Sadness and anger can break it. You will be left with ruined hope, though you will try to make it seem like it is untainted. You will live a lie. You will delude yourself. Lies, lies, lies. These lies will become your go-to defence.

He knows this. He knows that the lies will build a mask. Build a new person, some blank slate for you to play. You get to pick its voice, its clothes, its personality. Anything. As long as it is the opposite of your truth. Because your truth is deadly.

Until...

You give up.

Your hope shatters. Shatters like a mirror. Its shards fall to the ground, so brittle they break into even smaller bits. They become so small; you can't pick them up anymore. It's almost like sand, how they fall between your fingers. You cannot fix this. Not by yourself.

* * *

Dream doesn't notice that he gives up.

He doesn't notice lots of things.

He doesn't notice his friends become frantic with worry, searching everywhere for him, desperate enough to tell Nightmare about how he has been recently.

He doesn't notice Nightmare laugh at first, then gradually become serious, worried, joining in searching, realizing how awful he's been recently, gaining the ability to return to his former self, the one before corruption.

He doesn't notice the multiverse panic in his disappearance.

He doesn't notice the balance shifting.

He doesn't notice the ten months he's been gone.

* * *

Dream knows...

* * *

Dream does notice when Nightmare finds him.

He had become submerged in snow. It was difficult to distinguish his bones from the powder. It was hard to tell if he was alive at all. He had become catatonic. Staring at nothing. Staring through Nightmare. Yet he hears things. He hears, he feels, he tastes, he thinks. He hears Nightmare find him.

He hears him stop.

He hears him slowly approach, like he'll disappear if he moves too slowly.

He hears him kneel beside him. Take his hands away from his skull and hold them. Brush some snow off him.

He hears him talk. Talk about what he missed. Talk about what he'll have to catch up on, what he'll have to do. This talk shifts. He starts talking about how sorry he was. How he should've noticed.

Nightmare apologizes.

For the first time in months, his eyes brighten. He can see.

* * *

Dream knows that...

* * *

Dream almost jumps away when he sees his brother, not the imposter he was expecting.

In fact, he probably would've. If his bones weren't frozen and stiff, in dire need of heat. He couldn't speak either, or he would've been asking if this was a trap. He didn't think it was. He hoped it wasn't.

He gazes at his Nightmare, who had his head bent low, staring at their hands. He looks just as he remembered. It had been so long. He never thought he'd see him again. The realization that he was in front of him, and the heat on his cold hands making him real and not a hallucination, was almost enough to bring tears to his eyes. He fought them.

One escaped.

It slipped down his cheek, dropping into the snow around him. He stared at his brother.

He couldn't speak. Instead, he reached out with his magic. He reached out to Nightmare, searching for his attention. His magic practically screamed that he was awake, alive, present. He was back.

Nightmare blinked. They made eye contact. Nightmare smiled at him, like nothing was wrong. Nothing was broken. He wasn't broken. His eyes were barely focused. Nightmare sensed him spiralling and reached out with his magic, shushing him. He gingerly gathered him up, hugging him loosely.

Nightmare welcomed him back.

He didn't hug back. His head fell to Nightmare's shoulder, resting.

Something warm entered his soul. It startled him. It was new. Unfamiliar. Yet it felt...nice. Right. It made him relax. It made him itch to hug his brother back. It brought more tears, this time those of relief, as he placed the feeling.

It was hope.

* * *

Dream knows that hope is a foolish thing.

However, he also knows that the most foolish thing you can do, is stop hoping.


	7. Shattered & Dream || Shatter Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS THE AUTHOR TRYING AT A CREEPY ATMOSPHERE AND FAILING.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Dream woke up in darkness.

He blinked, sitting up slowly. This was the Dreamscape. He knew it was, but it shouldn't look like this. It was supposed to be colourful and bright; not clouded by blackness and...negativity? Was this Nightmare?

No, it couldn't have been.

Nightmare, while he could access the Dreamscape and probably influence it, said he didn't care about this place anymore. That Dream could do whatever he wanted with it. Besides, he would've felt Nightmare's aura if he was here.

So, that ruled out Nightmare. Then, who could've done this? Dream?

No, no. That was impossible. He wasn't negativity. He couldn't influence the Dreamscape like this even if he wanted to. Which, of course, he doesn't but...

This was strange. Only Nightmare and he had access to this place. If neither of them did this, then who?

Dream shivered as he stood up. It was strangely cold. He could feel himself start to shiver, so he hugged himself, rubbing his arms. He let out a breath and blinked. It was very cold; he could see his breath. He watched as the cloud of air disperses.

He looked around again. Nothing. Pure nothingness surrounded him.

However, if he wanted to get to the bottom of this, then he would need to walk around. The thought gave him mixed feelings. He didn't want to do this. He was scared. But the Dreamscape was his responsibility. So, he had to fix it, or he would be a failure.

Or one greater than he already was, at least.

Dream took a deep breath and started forward.

* * *

It grew colder the more he walked.

He didn't know how long he had been walking for. It felt like he was going in circles, or the place lasted forever. The darkness around him didn't change at all. In fact, it almost seemed to grow darker, if that was possible.

He was shivering more now. It was impossible not too.

He hoped that this was, in fact, Nightmare. If it wasn't, then he wouldn't know what to do. He knew Nightmare. He knew how to knock him down, defeat him. He didn't know how to beat whatever caused this.

Dream knew this would happen, though.

He knew that he was going headfirst into dangerous territory. He knew that was a risk he was taking. And it was far too late to quit now, wasn't it?

There was still nothing. It frustrated him. He huffed before closing his eyes and taking another deep breath. He couldn't get so negative now. That wouldn't help his case. He had to think positive.

He thought about his friends, his brother, his hopes, anything.

Then, Dream kept walking.

* * *

It was suddenly warm.

Dream blinked, surprised, as he let his arms fall. It was a big change from the coldness of before. This must mean he was getting somewhere.

Finally.

Dream smiled to himself slightly. There was still nothing but black around him, but at least the air changed. This was good. It meant he was close. It meant he was close to getting out of this place. Though...

He wasn't there yet.

He sighed as he continued walking.

* * *

There was a music box on the ground.

It almost tripped him. He blinked down at it. He crouched down, picking it up. It was a beautiful wooden one. It had swirls of golden paint on it. Simple, but nice. He turned it around. As he thought, there was a hole in it, but nothing to wind it up with, sadly.

He sighed. Even if it was a bit unnerving, it would've been nice to get some sound besides his footsteps and breathing. As he moved to set it down, though, something stopped him.

_Pocket._

He suddenly had a strong urge to check his pockets. But there couldn't be anything in them. He didn't pick anything up.

He gave in, anyway. The first pocket he checked had nothing in it, as he thought. Nor did the second. He was confused. These were his only pockets, so...what was going on? He checked the first one again and his hand closed around something.

He pulled it out. It was a small wind up key.

Feeling uneasy, he wound up the box. The top opened, revealing a glass figurine of a ballerina. It was broken and damaged with no face. It still spun, though.

A melody began to play, just a few notes repeated over and over. As he listened, entranced, he heard the underlying ticking of a clock. It made him feel uneasy.

He blinked and the box was gone. The melody still played.

Dream looked around. His feeling of uneasiness grew.

_Behind you._

He blinked again. Now, he had an urge to look behind him. Slowly turning, he held his breath as he came face to face with...himself.

A mirror.

He tilted his head, letting out his breath in slight relief. His reflection copied him.

Dream smiled. No...that wasn't right. His reflection did.

He froze, unable to move or look away and his reflection stopped copying him. The reflection's eyes grew more orange and its smile turned sharper, dangerous. Black goop, the same as Nightmare's, only more golden, began to cover his reflection. Tentacles appeared behind it, waving. His reflection was completely covered now.

His reflection leaned forward, a Cheshire smile on its face. " _Boo._ "

Dream jumped back.

His reflection laughed, the mirror disappearing. It stretched like it had been trapped in a small space for a long time.

Dream took a step back, shaking.

His reflection—or was it one? He didn't know anymore—smiled in amusement. It tipped its head. " _Hello Dream._ "

Dream did the only thing he could.

He ran away.

* * *

There was fog now, which made him slow down.

He could barely see his feet. It would do no good to run in this. He could still hear that melody. It seemed louder now. It did not relieve his fear, only intensified it.

He shivered as he felt a breath on his neck. He spun around. No one.

His reflection was toying with him. It wanted him to be afraid. And he was. He couldn't help it. He was being chased and toyed with like a mouse to a cat. He hated to think what would happen if he was caught.

" _Now, now,_ " His reflection clicked its tongue, voice right next to Dream's ear. " _that's no way to treat a friend._ "

Dream swiped his hand at the voice. Nothing. Figures. He started walking again. "You are not my friend."

His voice shook. He hated being weak.

His reflection laughed, the sound behind him. He spun around, walking backwards. " _Really? Oh, I'm hurt, Dream. I thought we had a connection._ "

"I don't even know who you are!" Dream snapped, turning back around. He jumped back when he saw he was so close to his reflection.

His reflection leaned down, staring him down. " _So, you don't remember?_ " It laughed. This one was different from before. It was bitter instead of amused. " _Figures._ "

Dream furrowed his brow. He shook. "What are you talking about?" His voice was small.

He blinked and his reflection was gone again. He looked around.

He jumped when he felt something caress his arm. It felt like a tentacle; cold, wet and slimy. He shook it off, falling on the ground. He scooted backwards until he ran into something.

He froze. He closed his eyes tight. He knew what he ran into. He could feel the legs move, begin to crouch down behind him. Something wrapped around his waist, pulling him backwards until his back met a chest. There was a breath against his ear. He shook, tears gathering.

Dream was caught.

His reflection sighed. " _Dreamy, Dreamy, Dreamy._ " He felt a hand come and wipe away a tear that fell. " _What am I going to do with you?_ "

Dream said nothing. He shook more.

The tentacle around his waist tightened and hands settled on his shoulders, steadying him. " _There's no need to be afraid, Sunshine._ " His reflection purred, a hint of seriousness in its voice. " _I'm not an enemy. I'm part of you. I can't be an enemy, not really. I'm only one if you keep being scared._ "

Dream gulped but tried to calm himself. He didn't trust his reflection. Though...it did raise some points. Eventually, he got his shaking under control. The hands on his shoulders shifted. One wrapped around his chest in a sort of hug and the other reached up to pet his head.

" _Good! Good._ " His reflection said, sighing happily. " _Although...we're out of time. As always._ " His reflection leaned away, releasing Dream.

Dream sat there for a couple minutes, making sure he was alone. He carefully cracked open an eye and seeing no one, no fog and just darkness, opened the other, standing. He brushed himself off.

Then he froze as his reflection spoke back up, whispering in his ear. " _Remember: Dreams are pretty, but they can be easily **shattered** if left alone for too long._"

* * *

Dream woke up.

He was bleary-eyed and unfocused. He sat up, confusion filling him. He held a hand over his chest. He still felt uneasy because of...

Of...

He didn't remember. He looked around. He was in his room in the Star Sanses base. He was where he was meant to be.

So, why did he feel this way?

He shrugged, moving out of bed. He reached up and rubbed at his eyes before placing his hand on the doorknob. Something stopped him from leaving.

_Dresser._

He looked over. There was a music box on his dresser. It was a beautiful wooden one, with golden swirls painted on it. There was a small wind up key beside it. The lid was open, revealing the figurine of the ballerina, clean and shining well. It almost seemed to glow with a golden hue.

Dream stared at it. His feeling of uneasiness grew.

He opened the door anyway and tore his gaze from the box. As he left the room, a melody filled his head, along with a voice singing one single line.

" _Somebody make me feel alive and shatter me..._ "

Then it was silent.


	8. Blue & Dream & Stretch || A Found Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT INCLUDES THE AUTHOR TRYING AT SOME FLUFF AND SHOCKINGLY SUCCEDING.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

It was well known among his friends that Dream didn't take care of himself.

He was on the run most of the time, so he couldn't. He barely ate, either, as he relied on the positivity from the AUs he visited. That sustained him enough. He barely slept, too. It was rare to see him taking a nap, though if he did it wouldn't be long and would most likely be on Blue's couch.

Most importantly, however, he didn't take care of his wings.

Yes, he had wings. They weren't just rumours. They were small, though, so he mostly had them hidden underneath his cape. He could fly with them, but only for a short while. They found that out thanks to Ink.

His wings were a mess. Feathers tangled and uncomfortable, though he learned to ignore it. He rarely slept on his wings for the reason of not making it worse. Somehow, it gets worse anyways.

So, no, Dream did not take care of himself at all. Can you blame him? He's too busy taking care of Nightmare and the Multiverse to give a damn about the state of his health and wings. It wasn't that hard to understand.

This is what he was trying to get Blue to see. They had argued about this before, but Dream always won in the end.

Now, this argument was different. Blue was done listening to 'excuses' apparently.

"Just because you're busy a lot," his friend immediately shot back, arms crossed and foot tapping, "does not mean you can't take a break for a few minutes!"

Dream huffed.

They had been at this for a while. He knew that Blue was getting frustrated with his lack of care to himself recently (it was quite hard to ignore). His friend had a habit of building up his concerns until they burst. Today was that day.

The minute Dream had come back from a battle with Nightmare, Blue had confronted him. Blue's brother, Stretch, had been entering the room at the time and had frozen, recognizing the incoming lecture/argument from the times it was directed at him. Stretch had then said he would be back and left Dream to his fate.

The Papyrus was probably laughing to himself about it now.

Dream didn't like being worried about. This was a main issue as to why these arguments even existed. Blue and him had different views as to what friends should do. Blue believed that friends do whatever they can for the others, especially if it's that one friend who is always overworking himself. Dream, on the other hand, believed that friends don't pry into the lives of the others, respecting their privacy, especially if it's that one friend who is the mom of the group.

The other thing was, Dream knew that Blue was right. Blue knew he did too.

Should Dream just give up his fight? Probably.

Will he? Absolutely not.

Why? Because a trait that he and his negative twin shared was that they are both stubborn. They would be in favour of keeping their pride than giving in and accepting help. This trait is probably the reason for most of their problems.

So, Dream was going to fight this to his last breath.

"Blue," he began, wings puffing a little in anger. Blue had wrestled his cape away from him too and was currently holding onto it. He felt naked without it, but he persevered. "you are asking me to stay here for a whole day, which, need I remind you, threatens your AU, and sleep for at least three hours—"

"I was thinking more like eight, the healthy amount of sleeping hours."

"—three hours," he ignored Blues interruption, "and eat a whole meal." He looked at Blue with pleading eyes. "You know I can't stomach that much food."

Blue's eyes softened a fraction and he sighed, setting Dream's cape on the arm on the couch. "I know. But, Dream," he gazed at Dream with his own pleading eyes, "you can't continue like this. You'll burn out. Then what'll happen?"

"I—"

"You won't be able to fight. Which will hurt you more than fighting would." Blue clasped his hands together and bowed his head, eyes gazing at Dream even more pleadingly. "Please? Just today, that's it."

Dream hesitated. He wanted to argue more, continue fighting for the win. But Blue never did this before. He never pleaded. And Dream knows that if he continues to say no now that Blue will be defeated. He'll resign himself to never asking again.

He didn't want to make Blue disappointed. Besides...one day couldn't hurt, right?

Dream sighed, sagging in defeat. "Fine." Blue lit back up, beaming. Another thought entered Dream's head and he panicked a bit. "But Nightmare—"

"Ink will handle him." Blue grabbed Dream's hand and pulled him to the bathroom, where a pile of clothes already waited. A bath was run that still looked surprisingly warm. Blue had prepared to win.

Dream still protested weakly. "But—"

Blue smiled and patted Dream's shoulder. "He will, don't worry." A glint was in Blue's eye that made Dream shiver. "I'll make sure of it."

With that, he turned and left, locking the door behind him. Dream blinked a bit at the door.

Sometimes, Blue scared him.

He sighed and looked to the bath. It would be nice to have one, he supposed. He couldn't remember the last time he did have one. Probably back in the village, if he had to guess. Smiling slightly, he stripped and put one foot in the bath. The water was the perfect temperature.

He entered the bath fully, shifting a bit when his wings got wet. It was a bit of a shock, at first. He leaned back a bit, resting his head against the wall. He usually never had time for a bath, relaxing as it was. It distracted him from all of his other duties.

...Blue was right. He did need this.

Dream sat there a while longer. This was the most relaxed he'd ever been. Eventually, he started to clean himself and his wings. Once satisfied, he hopped out, unplugging the bath. He scrubbed himself clean and gazed at the clothes Blue had prepared for him.

It was a yellowy-orange sweater and some gray sweatpants. Comfy clothes.

Once dressed in those, he took a deep breath and began the process of drying his wings. Whenever his wings got wet, the feathers got all clumped together. This was no exception. It was fine though. He could live with it.

After he was done with everything, even though his wings were a bit damp still, he unlocked the door and exited.

Blue met him at the end of the stairs. He took Dream's hand and pulled him to the couch, sat him down and left for a minute. He returned with a single taco. Dream felt nauseous even looking at it. He gazed up at Blue when he handed him the plate. "Blue—"

"You don't have to eat it all," Blue reassured him, immediately knowing what the guardian was thinking. "just pick at it and eat what you can. I'll eat the rest." He then grabbed a blanket and sat beside Dream, wrapping it around them both.

They turned on the TV and settled down to watch a rerun of a cartoon Alphys had given Blue called 'Voltron'. She had found it in the dump and said it reminded her of the training guard. It was pretty good, with some good jokes.

Dream managed to eat a good corner of the taco before he felt full. He gave the rest to Blue, who happily took it, giving Dream a sympathetic smile as well. His friends ate the rest of the taco as they finished the episode.

After some time had passed, Dream felt Blue staring at him. Looking over, Dream caught Blue's eye.

"What?" Dream asked, tilting his head a bit.

Blue glanced away to his wings before looking back to Dream. He did that a couple more times before eventually looking Dream in the eye. "Can I groom your wings?"

Dream blinked. Once. Twice. That was unexpected. "...why?"

Blue looked frustrated at that. "You never groom them! You let the feathers get all bunched up!" He put a hand on his chest. "I, for one, think they would look pretty once groomed."

Dream paused. He supposed the other was right. He never did groom his wings, just let them do whatever they wanted to do. In fact, he can't even remember if he ever did groom them. Probably not. He's always been on the run. He never had time too.

It must feel good. "...sure."

Blue looked at him with surprise. "Really?"

He sighed and nodded, smiling when Blue's excitement came into focus quickly.

They then shifted on the couch to accommodate the activity. It was tight, but somehow, they got it to work. Dream laid down on his stomach, this way his wings could stretch a bit. Blue sat underneath his legs, twisted to face Dream, which wasn't as uncomfortable as it sounded, so that the wings didn't hit him in the face. It was a bit of a reach for Blue to reach all the feathers, but he managed.

Dream startled at the first touch. It was new. Yet...as Blue continued, it grew to be very relaxing, even more so than the bath. It was a constant little thing that sent tingles up his spine. He felt himself relax into the couch, the TV and Blue's breathing tuning out.

He yawned a bit and found his eyes slipping close.

* * *

Blue smiled when Dream fell asleep.

He had a feeling it would happen, though he wasn't sure. He had been talking to a few of the monsters that had wings about grooming them so he knew what to do and they all said it was pretty relaxing. Relaxing enough to put someone to sleep.

He did plan all of this. The bath, the clothes, the taco, the show, everything. It was all so that he could groom his friend's wings and put him to sleep.

Because god knows the other needed it.

It both saddened and angered him that Dream had to go through this. Brothers shouldn't treat each other like this. Yes, he got upset with his own brother, but that would never mean he would want to kill him.

Unlike Nightmare. He knew that something happened between them that he will probably never be told, but that was no excuse. Dream still refused to kill Nightmare, who could care less if his twin died. It sickened him. Dream deserved far better.

Which was where this day came from.

He was glad that his plan had worked. He was very glad that Dream agreed to it in the first place. He also knew that he would do another one of these in the future. He just had to. Dream deserved it.

With these thoughts still swirling around his head, Blue fell into a light sleep.

* * *

Stretch sighed as he returned home.

He had been ordered by his brother to stay away for the day. It had something to do with Dream, he knew that, so it was fine with him. He knew that the guardian had been running himself ragged a bit recently. So, he left Blue to his devices.

He opened the door and closed it again, turned to the living room and paused.

The first thing Stretch noticed was the TV, stuck on the menu screen for that season. He subconsciously reached for the remote and turned it off. He then turned to the couch.

The second thing he noticed was the cape that Dream always wore on the arm. It stricked him a bit odd, but then his attention was directed to the two skeletons on the couch, the third thing he noticed.

His brother and his friend were laying on the couch. Dream was laying on Blue's chest, an arm hanging off. He was also drooling a bit, a wet spot growing on Blue's shirt. In return, Blue had his arms wrapped around the guardian. Their legs were tangled together and Dream's wings laid on top of them both.

It was a cute scene. Too cute to resist taking a picture of.

After the picture was taken, he looked to the blanket on the floor. Taking the fuzzy green thing, he carefully draped it over the sleeping pair. Hesitating a bit, he then kneeled beside them.

He first gave a kiss to Blue's forehead, making his brother shift in his sleep. Then, his gaze went to Dream. He knew his brother viewed the guardian as another brother. It was obvious whenever he looked. And if Blue thought that way about Dream, that Stretch did too.

He wasn't lying, either. He knew what the guardian's own brother had done to him. He didn't like it, perhaps even disliked it more than Blue did. Dream deserved a loving family, and brothers that wouldn't abandon him.

"You'll always have a family with us, Dream." He whispered to the sleeping guardian. He gave a second kiss to Dream's forehead, who shifted in his sleep also, snuggling more into Blue.

Stretch smiled at his sleeping brothers before sitting down to watch over them.


	9. Blue || How to Be Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS IMPLIED SUICIDE.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

146.

Chara RESET the world 146 times.

Blue knew this how? Well, quite simply, he remembered, and he kept track. A shock, he's sure. It's true all the same. His brother knows about the timelines, the scientific part of them anyway, but he does not remember them.

Luckily.

Blue would not wish this on anyone. It's a sort of hell, the worst kind of torture. He has to pretend every single day that everything is fine and not pointless. He has to be the hope of this world. The hope of his brother, who has already given up. Hope, hope, hope.

Hope, hope, hope.

Just keep hoping.

Though he wonders. How can he keep being the hope, when he barely has any left?

* * *

**I don't feel safe in this bed**

* * *

Then they started the Genocide runs.

After a year of peacefulness on the surface. After they reached the ultimate happy ending. After his brother began to be happy, truly happy, for the first time in a long while. After Blue began to let himself hope that that run was the last, that they could actually live now.

Haha.

He was a goddam fool.

Before he opened his eyes, he knew what had happened. He tensed. If he opened his eyes, he was sure to be back Underground, in his old room. Tears slipped down his face slowly, dripping onto his pillow. A dry sob escaped him. He held his hands to his eyes, daring to look at the ceiling between them.

The blank ceiling, devoid of any glow-in-the-dark stars, gazed back at him tauntingly.

* * *

**There are voices in my head**

* * *

Voices of the past haunted his mind as he shook.

_"C'mon, B-Blue! W-we got a morning j-jog to do!"_

_"Make sure you don't burn the house down again, you two!"_

_"Bro, don't worry! You'll go great at this! After all, you're the Magnificent Sans!"_

They wouldn't stop. They wouldn't leave him alone.

He curled up on his side, his hands moving to cover his ears as he mumbled 'stop' over and over again. Over, and over, and over...

Just like his entire life.

* * *

**I've been talking to the dead**

**And the fear baptized me**

* * *

Blue stared at the pile of dust in front of him, the orange hoodie gazing back silent and still.

He had played along when they left the ruins covered in faint dust and carrying that knife. He had acted like it wasn't a problem at all. He knew what would happen if he didn't. It seems he was wrong.

He wasn't their target.

His brother had evacuated the town. Told him to go with, which he did for a bit, then he teleported away and arrived in time to see his brother's head get chopped off. Yet, besides being on the verge of dying, his brother didn't blame the human. He instead forgave him. Believed in him.

Now, he stood there, waiting for the tears to come. Tears for his only family member dying and leaving him alone. They didn't appear.

It seemed Blue had run out of tears to give.

* * *

**My kingdom turned to dust**

**And I watched all my riches rust**

* * *

Slowly, he watched the Underground be purged of everyone.

Alphys, Napstablook, all of his friends. Gone.

Yet, he wasn't surprised.

Blue watched the human continue to the castle.

* * *

**Have I lost the Midas' touch?**

**Or do sad eyes blind me?**

* * *

They didn't follow through.

Just when they reached the Final Corridor, they RESET again.

For the 148th time, Blue opened his eyes to a blank ceiling, a sinking feeling in his chest.

He didn't cry anymore.

* * *

**Over and over we go**

**Over the hills and the valleys below**

* * *

223 times now.

They never want to finish what they started.

* * *

**Oh, and it follows me, follows me home**

**And it suffocates me, hmmm**

* * *

There was a numbness in his chest now.

_"Bro, promise me you won't try and fight the human?"_

Blue doubted he could make it through one more incomplete run.

* * *

**Oh, I can't breathe**

* * *

They actually entered the golden hallway this time.

It only took almost a hundred tries.

When they started forward, Blue was there to confront them. He forced a smile and spoke with a cheerfulness that made him feel sick.

* * *

**I said oh, I can't breathe**

* * *

"Heya! I see you've been, uh...a bit busy, haven't you? Well, anyway! I've got a question for you. Do you think...even the worst person can change? That everyone...can be a good person, if they just...tried?"

"..."

"Mweh heh heh! Well, here's a better question...do you want to have a bad time? Because if you take another step forward, you are really not going to like what happens next."

"..."

"Well, sorry brother! This is why I never make promises!"

* * *

**All I know is I forgot how to be me**

* * *

"It's a beautiful day outside...flowers are blooming...birds are singing...on days like these...kids like you..."

"...?"

"Should be burning in hell."

"!!!"

* * *

**I don't feel safe in these halls**

**There are bruises on the walls**

* * *

Blue had once believed that killing wasn't an option, no matter how desperate one became.

Funny how things change.

Funny how watching someone murder your kind over and over again, murder your brother over and over again, can make you think things differently.

It was almost funny enough to laugh at.

Instead, he looked away as another bunch of bones killed the human and restarted their battle.

* * *

**There are bodies in the floors**

**And they breathe so loudly**

* * *

103 times.

That's how many times he had killed the human.

Chara was determined though. They wouldn't stop until they killed him.

And Blue found himself longing for when that happened.

* * *

**I wish I could move**

**Get up and walk right out this tomb**

* * *

Leaving would be...troubling.

He would live, yes. But then he would be one of the only monsters left. He would be sentencing himself to a life of loneliness.

He didn't like being alone. Never had.

So, he would remain here, blocking the path for this run and those in the future.

Because then he would be useful.

* * *

**Do our saviours die too soon?**

**For my sins surround me**

* * *

Chara got frustrated at death 200. They RESET again.

When Blue woke up this time, he woke up screaming. It was like all of his remorse, guilt and sadness that had abandoned him before had poured back into him. It left him shaking, his magic swirling around his room.

His brother hurried into the room, visibly worried and faintly scared. Just the sight of him calmed Blue down sufficiently, but he was still crying enough for Stretch to wrap him in a hug, rocking him and whispering comforts.

"It was just a nightmare," he said.

Blue wished he could believe that.

* * *

**Over and over we go**

**(Over and over we go)**

**Over** **the hills and the valleys below**

**(Over the hills and the valleys below)**

**Oh, and it follows me, follows me home**

**(follows me, follows me)**

**And it suffocates me, hmmm**

* * *

It continued like this for a few dozen more runs.

Each time it RESET, Blue woke up crying and screaming. He knew he was making his brother worry, especially because he never woke up like this before the timeline started being messed with. He couldn't help it.

At least he was no longer numb.

* * *

**Oh, I can't breathe**

**I said oh, I can't breathe**

* * *

They were in the hall again.

This time, Chara didn't give up. They kept dodging with a sickening smile on their face.

Blue began to suspect that this human wasn't the same one as before. He didn't have proof, however.

He was beginning to get tired, too.

* * *

**All I know is I forgot to be me**

* * *

He offered them MERCY.

He was desperate.

They refused and attacked again.

Blue was beginning to consider just giving up and letting them kill him.

He didn't find the thought of dying so bad, anyways.

* * *

**Hallelujah**

**Where is my God, where are you?**

* * *

Blue decided to use his special attack. Nothing.

He panted as he did.

He was, so, so tired.

Hm.

He could shut his eyes for just a minute, right?

* * *

**Hallelujah**

**Nothing is pulling me through**

* * *

As he closed his eyes, he thought he heard a voice saying for him to wake up, to stay awake.

Which was weird, as he wasn't sleeping, even if he wanted to.

Another thing was that the voice sounded like Stretch.

Which was impossible and he was dead.

* * *

**Hallelujah**

**When I don't know how to be**

**Hallelujah**

**I forgot how to be me**

* * *

Much to Blue's dismay, he did fall asleep for a second.

He woke up when he heard Chara attack again, though.

He wasn't prepared for when they attacked again quickly.

The pain as the knife cut him across the chest was extreme. It was greater than anything (physical, anyways) he had felt before.

As the human walked away and he said his final words, Blue had the strangest sensation of someone hugging him.

* * *

**When he gave up the fight**

**A quick decision late in the night**

* * *

As he felt himself dust and his soul shatter, the world RESET.

Blue woke back up in his bed.

Something was off this time. Something broke inside of him.

He decided to give up.

He didn't have any hope anymore

* * *

**That stayed with me for all of my life**

**I miss you so**

* * *

When Stretch went to see what was taking his brother so long, all he encountered was a pile of dust toped with a blue bandana.


	10. Dream || (Part One) Was it Only a Lie?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS IMPLIED DEPRESSION, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND SUICIDAL IDEATION.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

There was a time that Dream remembered quite vividly.

It was way back, before Nightmare ate the apples and their home was destroyed. When the villagers were still there. When they were still selfish and greedy. When Dream hid his problems with a smile and Nightmare simply avoided his problems.

One time, amongst the many times it had happened before, Dream had hurried into the forest as a getaway. He didn't run. He couldn't. If he ran, he would've been caught and things would only get worse from there. He had a fast pace about him, though, as he had to get to his clearing before the tears could start.

Well...he supposed it was too late. His vision was already starting to blur. Whether the tears were of sadness, frustration or simply overwhelming emotions, Dream didn't know.

He did know that he was so tired of crying like this. It always happened. Well, maybe not always, but often enough for Dream to be frustrated and mad with himself. He didn't understand why he cried like this. He wasn't even sure he wanted to, as that meant admitting he wasn't okay, wasn't perfect. It meant making Nightmare worry. It meant making Neil worry.

...He didn't like being worried about.

And, he remembered, the words practically drilled into his head by now, as the villagers always say, "You shouldn't be worried about. You are Positivity. You cannot be worried about. If you think you should be, then there is something wrong. You are wrong. If you are wrong, we will need to fix you. Again."

He shivered, which didn't help his goal of trying to suppress his feelings. The tears started overflowing, falling down his cheeks and sending little jolts of...something that just made him feel worse. He tried to wipe them away, even though he knew they would just keep coming. They never stopped for a long time.

Dream didn't like the 'fixing' that the villagers had come up with. If he could even call it that. It wasn't as extreme as the measures they used with Nightmare (which, yes, he knew about to an extent. He knew that he was missing stuff. But he doesn't want to make things worse by interfering.). They mostly just locked him up in a small, small place. They made sure he told Nightmare that he wouldn't be at the tree for a couple of nights before they did, so Nightmare didn't worry.

He hated it. He would be left with his thoughts and darkness, unable to see his own body. He would barely be able to move. That wasn't even the worst of it. If he was what they defined as 'really bad', then he would have to wear a sort of...blocker. It shut off his ability to feel the auras of those around him. Which meant he couldn't tell if someone was around or not. He wouldn't be able to tell if he had been abandoned, forgotten.

Luckily, though, the blocker didn't happen often. In fact, if Dream was counting correctly, it had only happened three or so times before. Which was still three times too many, in his opinion.

But...he was making this about him, wasn't he? He didn't mean to. He wasn't supposed to. It just...happened sometimes. Dream thought he was getting better at it, but apparently, he was wrong. This wasn't about him. His problems didn't matter. He could live with them. In fact, he probably deserved it.

What mattered was making sure the villagers were happy enough to leave Nightmare alone. Or at least lighten up. They could punish him as much as they wanted. He just wanted his brother safe. Happy.

...That wouldn't happen if he kept playing the victim, if he kept twisting this so they become about him.

Dream huffed out a weak laugh. His vision cleared up enough so that he could see that he had gone in the wrong direction. He wasn't at his clearing. Not at all. He was in front of a cliff of sorts. Below him, there was just a bunch of darkness. There was another cliff opposite of him, which made this a ravine. Which meant that there were rocks at the bottom of it.

Jeez, just how far had he walked?

That didn't matter now. What did matter, he decided, as the sky turned the colours that usually meant evening time, was finding out how to get home.

Yet...he didn't move.

His gaze was drawn back to the cliff, the darkness below it. It was almost...memorizing, in a morbid way. It seemed to draw him in. It seemed to make him imagine what would happen if he took just a step more. What would happen if he dropped? What would it look like? He bet it would be disgusting, morbid again.

He shook his head violently, breaking the nice he had been lulled into. Shaking, he backed away several steps until he couldn't see the haunting darkness. This was the first time this happened. It scared him.

Dream wasn't supposed to have these thoughts. He knew that. If he let it slip that he did think those things, he would basically condemn Nightmare to death!

Nightmare...

Oh god, what was he thinking? He couldn't...jump...even if he wanted too. Night needed him. He couldn't just be selfish and die because it would stop the hurt. Night needed him. Nightmare needed him. He was needed.

He turned his back on the cliff and walked back into the forest, repeating the line over and over. Nightmare needed him. Neil needed him. People needed him.

He resisted the urge to look back and set himself about finding his way back home.

* * *

Dream didn't have another thought like that again for a while.

Until after he woke up 500 years after being trapped in a stone prison, unable to move, see, hear, talk, or feel. He could think, still. He was still conscious. Unfortunately. He would have very much preferred it if he wasn't aware during the time.

He was very disoriented at first. He didn't know how much time had passed, only that it had felt like a long, long time. He even wondered if Nightmare was dead before remembering who had turned him to stone in the first place.

Then, panic set in. He knew that he had to hide. Disappear. Run. The more he focused, the more he felt the negativity of the world he was in. The more he realized that a powerful being filled with negativity was approaching him. Somehow, he knew exactly who it was.

He had, somehow, managed to create a portal, which he also knew lead somewhere safe, or at least safe enough to breathe for a few minutes. He didn't stop to observe and wonder about how he knew these things, how he knew how to do these things. As soon as the portal appeared, he ran through it. A scream of pure rage was the last thing he heard before it closed.

Before he let himself think, he stopped to breathe, as he said he would. As the positivity from this new world filled him, energized him, he stared at the ground beneath him. He had collapsed to his knees at some point.

Tears started to fill his eyes as he thought over everything. In one day. One. Day. In one day, he lost his entire world. He lost his friends (even if it was a stretch). He lost his best friend, his brother, the one who had always been there by his side.

It was all so...overwhelming.

He sobbed. Now that he thought about it, it hurt so much. It felt like something was grabbing his chest, his soul, so hard that he couldn't breathe. It made him want to scream and just break down. He would've, if there weren't people in this world that could here him.

Dream couldn't get the image of his brother out of his mind. Nightmare had seemed so...happy, killing the people of the village. The people that hurt him (and Dream, but Night didn't know that. Hopefully, he never would). And when he tried to stop the other, he had looked so angry. Like he...hated Dream.

He supposed he deserved it. He could've helped Nightmare. He could've done something. He could've made sure Nightmare wasn't alone. God, he had been selfish. He had spent so long trying to be the perfect little angel for the village, that he forgot about being there for his family. That was supposed to be the most important thing and he had...

He was so stupid.

So, so stupid.

He deserved to die.

He should die.

Dream cringed, curling into a ball, hands over his head as if to shield him from his own thoughts. No, he couldn't think like that. Especially now. Quickly, he had to distract himself. Maybe...maybe...maybe Nightmare needed him. Maybe Nightmare was just a little...lost and he needed Dream's help to be found.

Yes. Yes. That had to be it. He couldn't bring himself to believe otherwise.

Nightmare was lost. Nightmare needed help. Nightmare still needed Dream.

He couldn't die, not yet.

He had to save Nightmare. It didn't matter if he had to be alone to do so.

* * *

Years passed.

Dream fought Nightmare as best he could. As much as he could bring himself to, anyway. Each time, he tried to talk to his brother. Each time, Nightmare grew annoyed with him. Each time, they both never won.

He met Ink, the protector of worlds, as he introduced himself. For a protector who claimed to care about the worlds, Ink sure was a bit careless about how the people who populated such worlds suffered.

Dream knew, though, that Ink kept him around as a substitute for his vials. The protector used him as a personal drug. Which was...fine? He could live with it, as it reminded him that everyone only liked him because of his aura. It reminded him that no one would like and love him for him. Ink also gave Dream shelter and a 'friendship', in return, so he sort of had to stay with the protector.

Then, they both met Blue and Stretch. Dream and Blue hit it off pretty quickly, though the other was a bit wary of Ink. Both of the brothers were. Dream was a bit confused at that, but then he realized that they probably had encountered the protector before. Blue, after some odd visits by them, decided to join them, and so the 'Star Sanses' was formed. Ink's name, not Dream's.

Nightmare, after a battle with Dream's new team (he didn't let Dream explain that Dream wasn't the leader of the group, Ink was), got himself a team too. It consisted of some Sanses that had some...murderous tendencies. Now and again the destroyer, Ink's enemy, joined Nightmare too.

The two teams were in a battle now, in fact. Blue and Ink fought against Error, Dust, Killer and Horror, as per usual, and the brothers fought each other. Dream was quite injured, as always, and he barely managed to dodge another tentacle that tried to stab him. Nightmare, on the other hand, wasn't that injured at all. As always.

Dream took a deep breath and shot another arrow. "Brother, please!" He said as Nightmare, after dodging the arrow, started attacking again. "I don't want to fight you!"

Nightmare just growled and rolled his eyes. Dream knew why. He always said this in every battle. It never changed. "Oh, just shut up, Dream," Nightmare said, stopping his attacks to just stand there with crossed arms, disappointment written over his face. "you say this every time and I'm honestly so sick of it."

"Brother—"

Nightmare cut him off, raising his hand. "No, just stop. You want to know why that will never work?" He took a step forward, a manic glint in his eyes. Dream blinked in confusion, bow lowering. "It will never work because," Nightmare grinned. "you are no longer my brother."

Oh. Ouch. That was new. It hurt, too. Dream stiffened, something cold overtaking him. No matter how much he annoyed Nightmare, the other never disowned him. They were still brothers. Until...now, apparently.

The world started to blur as Nightmare continued, his voice the only thing he heard now. "I mean, honestly!" There was a laugh full of malice that sounded like it originated from all around him. "I don't know how you didn't realize it until now. I would've thought it was obvious."

Something wet slipped down his face. There was a pause and then another laugh, this time filled with amusement. "Oh, are you crying? How pathetic! Really, how can you expect me to think of you as a brother when you break so easily from so little words?"

There were footsteps and then there was a voice right next to his ear. "How can you expect me to think of you as a brother...when you didn't do anything to prove yourself that you deserve to be one to me in the first place?"

With that, Nightmare left. The cold grew, overwhelming his mind and his feelings until that was all he could feel. He wasn't aware of anything else. His shoulders were being shaken and he blinked, the world coming into a semblance of focus. Enough so that he could move. Enough to get away.

He reassured Blue, who had been the one shaking him, that he was fine. Blue didn't believe him and looked to Ink, who only shrugged. The protector honestly couldn't care less. Dream smiled and forced a laugh, drawing back Blue's attention. "I'm fine, honestly! I just...need to be alone for a bit, okay? I'll be back later."

Before anyone could stop him, Dream created a portal and disappeared into an AU he didn't know the name of.

* * *

Below him, the waves crashed against the sharp rocks. It was as hypnotizing as the ravine from so long ago. It made him imagine unsettling things that made him want to recoil, but he held himself there.

Tears were falling silently down his face. He had grown long used to them. One tear dropped off, falling down until it disappeared.

It was almost poetic, he supposed. The Guardian of Positivity, who was supposed to be happy all the time, was standing at the edge of a cliff, with thoughts about dying in his head. Haha. It made him want to laugh.

Usually, he would force these thoughts away. Dream would remind himself of anything. That people needed him. That he was doing something and he couldn't quit now. That, despite what he says, despite anything proving it wrong, Nightmare still needed him.

Only now...

Now...

Nightmare...didn't need him. The other had said so himself.

This realization was enough to keep Dream at the edge, staring down with dull eyes.

For the longest time, whenever he had thoughts about giving up and letting his brother win, he had reminded himself that the other still needed him. That Nightmare needed him to stay optimistic, to keep going, to continue to try and save him. These reminders were the only thing that kept him going.

And now that he couldn't do that anymore...well then, what could stop him now?

Reminders that people still needed him? Maybe, but between what the villagers always proved to him and how Ink only kept him around because he had too...Dream didn't really believe that anymore. He couldn't bring himself to.

A reminder that Blue, who was pretty much the only real friend he had, needed him? That was better, yes, but still...Blue was friends with anyone. He was good at that, making friends who liked him for him, and not something he didn't ask for. Blue would miss him, yes, but the younger would get over it in time. He would be fine.

And Dream...

Dream would be free.

Dream would finally be able to be free. He wouldn't have to worry about anything, about pleasing anyone, anymore. If he took that last step forward, then...yes, he would be dead (most likely, anyway, as he didn't know for sure if the bond was still intact), but he would also be happy for the first time in forever.

But before he could step off the ledge, a voice spoke up from behind him.

"...Dream...?"


	11. Dream & Nightmare || (Part Two/Final) Was it Only a Lie?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS LANGUAGE.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Nightmare, for the lack of a better word, was conflicted.

He had thought (keyword: thought) that he was sure of his decision to basically disown Dream. The look on his brother’s face was like music to his ears, even! So, why was it, now, back at home in his castle, staring through the window and at the setting sun, that the statement felt so…wrong?

For as long as he remembers, Dream had always been this childish and naïve person. The younger always wanted to help everyone, even if those people were selfish people. Even if those people took him away from his brother.

Nightmare, on the other hand, had no other friends besides his brother. He tried to let Dream know that he wanted to hang out without saying it directly, which he probably should’ve in the long run, but Dream never caught on. This always made him wonder if he even cared. If all he really wanted was to hang out with the villagers.

And eventually, it all grew to be too much. So, he snapped and tried to hold a golden apple, tried to prove that he was good too. It didn’t work.

Now here they were. Nightmare, with everything he ever wanted: power, respect, freedom and so many more things. Dream, with…well, he didn’t really know what the other had. He just assumed that he was happy as always.

Maybe…he was wrong?

No, he couldn’t be. That meant he had hurt the one person who never looked at him with anything but love. And he can’t have done that. It would mean he had become just as bad as his bullies, which he despised with all of his heart.

No. His mind was wrong. He was right, as he always was. Dream would get over it. He always did. Soon enough, they would be back to fighting, with Dream saying over and over that he doesn’t want to fight. The other would still call him brother despite what he had said today. Yeah. That’s what will happen.

Nightmare sighed and went back to sit at his desk. As soon as he sat down, there was a knock. He paused and glared at the wood before blinking. There were some new souls in his castle. Souls he didn’t invite in.

“Come in,” he said, pushing aside his papers and resting his hands together on the desk.

The door creaked open and a shadow Papyrus was there, looking quite nervous. It took a step into the office and stopped, gulping. It didn’t say anything. Nightmare shot it a look and it gulped again, this time starting to speak.

“Um, Lord Nightmare, s-sir,” it started, stuttering. The fear from it amused Nightmare slightly. “The, uh, the Star Sanses Blue and Ink are, uh…are in the throne room. They're looking for, um…they're looking for you.”

Nightmare blinked. He didn’t expect that.

…Why wasn’t Dream with them?

Something…something was wrong.

He could feel it. He narrowed his eyes and dismissed the Papyrus. He sat there for a few more minutes, mulling over what could be wrong before standing up and heading to meet his guests.

* * *

The throne room was quite grand and one of the best things about the castle, in his opinion. The black structure with the purple and blue interior made it a place you expected to radiate negativity. It was the exact place you expected a king to be in.

Usually, he would take a few minutes to admire the room. However, today he didn’t have the time. He could tell that as soon as got into proximity and the yelling made itself known. Honestly, it was quite a miracle that he hadn’t heard the yelling sooner. Especially with all the swears.

As soon as he entered the room, he paused for a few minutes, almost amused with the scene in front of him.

Blue (who, in his opinion, was very well the weakest of the Star Sanses) was struggling fiercely in the arms of two guards, who had to hold on tight to keep his restrained, and he was cursing at them with all kinds of swears. Nightmare almost believed that some were in another language.

Ink, on the other hand, was standing back with his own guards, who were watching the struggle with him. The protector had a grin on his face and looked to be a second away from laughing.

Nightmare sighed. “Let him go.”

Everyone in the room turned to him. Blue stopped struggling and instead opted to glare at him. Something about the glare gave him an uneasy feeling. He ignored it. The Papyri holding the Underswap Sans shared an uneasy look and let him go.

Nightmare nodded and waved his hand, talking to the guards in the room. “You are all dismissed. Go.”

The guards shared a look and didn’t move.

“I said GO!” Nightmare snapped, his voice echoing in the room. The guards jumped and scurried out of the room, leaving their king with his guests.

It was silent for a bit.

Then, Blue stomped up to Nightmare and shoved a finger in his face. “YOU! YOU FUCKING OCTOPUS OF A JERK!”

Nightmare, who had leaned away from the invasive maneuver, gave the other a look. He didn’t show how taken aback by this he was. “Don’t shout. You’ll kill my hearing.”

Blue intensified his glare but obeyed anyway. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Nightmare blinked. The low tone of the other’s voice paired up with his glare gave him a bad feeling. “What are you talking about?”

Blue laughed. It was bitter and hollow. “Don’t you fucking dare play this game with me, Nightmare.” He spat out Nightmare’s name like it disgusted him. “I know you know what I’m talking about.” He gave Nightmare an unimpressed look. “What you said to Dream today.”

Oh. So that’s what this was about. Interesting. “That’s what you came here for? Because of a simple insult that doesn’t matter?”

Blue’s eyes widened in disbelief. He shook his head slowly. “I…” The glare came back in a snap. “I can’t believe you.” The other turned to Ink. “Can you believe him?” He turned back to Nightmare without waiting for an answer. “Do you honestly think that it didn’t matter? He’s your fucking brother, Nightmare, and you just disowned him.”

Nightmare rolled his eyes. “So what? He’ll get over it.” He glared back at Blue in return. “He was a lousy brother, anyway.”

Blue’s eye twitched. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” Nightmare laughed coldly. “He never once stood up for me. He never cared to try.”

“Nightmare—”

“You may think he’s oh so perfect,” Nightmare barreled over Blue, stuck in his rant. “but he’s not. He’ll never care about you. He’ll never care about anyone but himself. He just wants to have all the attention on him and be praised, no matter the price it takes.”

“You—”

“That’s all he’s ever done and that’s all he’ll ever do. He—”

One minute Nightmare was ranting about Dream and the next he’s on the floor, with a bruise forming on his cheek, not that it would be able to be seen. Blue…Blue had punched him. He looked up at the Star Sans, slowly reaching up to hold his cheek. He was taken aback by what he saw.

Blue was crying and shaking in rage. “DREAM COULDN’T STAND UP FOR YOU BECAUSE HE KNEW THINGS WOULD ONLY GET WORSE!”

It was silent, the only sounds being Blue’s panting, Nightmare’s shuffling as he stood back up and strangely enough the crunch of some popcorn.

Nightmare was…confused by what Blue had yelled. What was he talking about?

Blue noticed Nightmare’s confusion and scoffed. “Of course. You don’t know.” He laughed, which almost sounded like a sob and reached up, rubbing his eyes. “Honestly, you both are gonna be the death of me.” He gave a sad smile. “You both hide things from the other in hopes that they won’t worry. What you fail to see, though, is that it will only hurt you in the long run.”

Nightmare narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Blue sighed. “In short?” He locked his gaze with Nightmares. “Nightmare, you weren’t the only one who was hurt—sorry, abused—by the village.”

Nightmare froze. Blue laughed. He sounded defeated. “Yeah. Shocker, I’m sure.” He shook his head. “You were abused mostly physically by the village. Dream, on the other hand, …he was mostly abused emotionally. Both of you were abused mentally.”

Nightmare clenched teeth and shook his head. “No, that can’t…”

Blue smiled sadly again. “It’s true. That’s all I can say, though. Because I shouldn’t be the one to tell you these things. Dream should.” Blue grew serious at this time. “Only, he can’t. Dream’s missing.”

Nightmare inhaled sharply. “What.”

“Dream’s missing. He disappeared soon after the battle and we—I—can’t find him.” Blue gazed at Nightmare, desperation radiating off of him. “For the longest time, he had the hope that you would listen to him. That you still cared about him. That you were still brothers. And today…” He trailed off, but Nightmare understood.

“…I ripped that hope away from him.” He murmured, becoming lost in his thoughts. Blue hummed in agreement, though Nightmare barely heard him. Some part of him still held onto the belief that Blue was wrong. Blue was misunderstanding things. That he was deluded.

But…

Nightmare knew, on some level, that Blue was right.

It made sense. God, it made so much sense.

He knows that he can’t just…change his mind in a snap and forgive Dream. He could, however, make the effort to try. It would take time, perhaps even years, but they would get there. They would take small steps at first.

Starting with finding his brother.

* * *

Nightmare found Dream standing on a cliff in one pirate AU.

He had left pretty quickly after Blue had knocked some sense into him. The two Star Sanses were welcome to stay in the castle until he got back with his brother. He had told them that himself.

Now, though…

He stared at Dream’s back. The other was shivering a bit, even though there wasn’t any wind. He couldn’t see his face, but he knew that the other was crying. He could also feel the other’s aura, which was drenched with negativity. It felt like it had been that way for a long time. That made him wonder how he didn’t feel it sooner.

Nightmare glanced down at the cliff. Dream was close to the edge…too close for it to be on purpose. The realization about why Dream was here gave him a sour taste in his mouth. His mouth moved before he could fully know what he was going to say.

“…Dream…?”

Both brothers tensed up for different reasons. Nightmare, because he spoke without thinking. Dream, because someone caught him. The negative twin held his breath as he watched Dream shift and turn to face him.

He felt his gaze soften despite himself.

Dream looked terrible. Tears were streaming down the other’s face and it looked like they had just decided to stop, frozen in place. And his eyes. His eyes, which were always so happy and bright were now dull and almost…hopeless. The eyes stared at Nightmare, emotions overwhelming them.

Nightmare wared with himself over what to say. This was a delicate situation and he had headed into the waters without making sure if he was prepared. That was always a dangerous thing. When Dream took half a step back, Nightmare decided to just throw away caution and talk.

“Dream,” he started, looking back up into the other’s eyes, making sure their gazes were locked. He also made sure his voice was calm and didn’t reveal his nervousness. “I need to talk to you.”

Dream blinked, clearly taken aback. His eyes narrowed and Nightmare knew that his brother was wary, looking for the tell-tale sign that this was a trap. When he spoke, his voice was weak and felt like a physical blow against Nightmare’s soul. “…What about?”

Nightmare took a deep breath. He had to play this correctly. “Things.” He forced himself to relax, leaning back with his hands in his pockets. “Y’know. The weather. This AU.” He paused here and decided to just dive right into the matter at hand. “The fight earlier.”

Dream flinched. He looked like he was holding himself back from taking another step backwards. Which was good. If he took another step back, then he would be dead. Which was not good. The Guardian opened his mouth but nothing came out. He repeated this action a few more times.

Nightmare sighed and struggled to remain carefree. “I’m…” He found himself struggling with the words, like they were stuck in his throat. He scowled to himself, gazing at the ground below him. “I’m sorry.”

He looked back at his brother. Dream was frozen, most likely with shock. He stared at Nightmare with wide eyes, hand held to his chest.

“What…?” Dream whispered, stepping forward a bit.

A feeling that felt akin to hope appeared in Nightmare’s chest at the action. “Yeah. I’m sorry. For what I said.” He shifted his stance awkwardly. “I didn’t mean it. Not really.” He paused and went back. “Well, I did, but…your friends appeared in my castle and showed me that I didn’t mean it.”

Dream was silent, staring at Nightmare.

Nightmare continued. “I can’t quite…forgive you. Not yet. But…your friend Blue told me a few things that made me think that I might be able to. Eventually.” He looked Dream in the eye and held his hand out. “But in order to do that, you have to come with me. Back to my castle.” He hesitated before finishing. “Back home.”

Dream looked down. Nightmare knew that he had crushed any hope before it was formed fully by his words. He stopped the foolish hope, at least. The unhealthy kind. He also knew that he had sparked a new hope. A healthy hope.

Dream slowly looked back up and Nightmare could see the resolve in his eyes. The other was also willing to try. No matter how long it took.

The Guardian of Positivity took the offered hand of the King of Negativity.


	12. Lesbian Errorink || Sour Candy Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS LANGUAGE.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

It was official: Ink was gay.

She realized this in the middle of the night, as she lay on her bed, thinking about the biker girl who goes to her school. It was honestly a wonder she didn’t realize this sooner. Ever since she met Error for the first time, she had been thinking about her constantly.

Then there was also her love for rainbows, but that didn’t matter in this situation.

The point was, now she had to decide how she was going to move forward with this. Was she going to just continue on like normal? Was she going to tell someone? She honestly didn’t know. It was worse with the party coming up.

Dream, Ink’s best friend since kindergarten, always through a party at the end of the school year. Everyone in the town was invited, which made Dream’s twin sister, Nightmare, retreat up into her room, never to be seen socializing at said party. The party was always a blast, too. Nothing could beat it.

At the end of the week, this part would commence. And Ink just knew that Error would be there. It would really be the perfect time to make a move. Tough, she didn’t know if Error even swung that way…

Oh well, she’ll have plenty of time to think about it anyways.

* * *

There she was.

Leaning against her bike.

Hair perfect as always.

Blowing a bubble with her gum.

Scrolling on her phone.

Just…perfect. Error was so perfect.

Ink watched from afar, hidden inside the doors. She wanted to reach through the doors and look as perfect as Error did. Error would then look up from her phone and fall instantly in love with her. They would run to each other; Error would spin her around and their faces would slowly move towards each other until—

“Hey Ink! Watcha doing?”

Ink jumped and spun around. Dream smiled at her, oblivious of the daydream she ruined. Nightmare stood off nearby, frowning softly to herself. Ink swears that the girl never smiles. Always has a cloud over her head, that one.

Ink sighed and directed her attention back to her friend. “Nothing.”

“Really?” Dream’s grin widened and she glanced behind Ink, certainty looking at a certain biker. “Okay. You still coming tonight?”

Ink looked at her weirdly. “Of course. I always come to your parties.”

“Good!” Dream clapped her hands and started to drag Nightmare away without another word. Before they passed through the doors, she paused and looked back at Ink. “Oh, I invited your girlfriend Error too, just so you know. See you soon!” With that, the twins were gone.

Ink blinked. Once. Twice. She blushed quickly as the words her friends used suddenly sunk in. “She’s not my girlfriend!” She called out to no one, before mumbling to herself, “Unfortunately.”

“Who ya talking to?”

Ink jumped again and turned. She froze. There the biker was, gazing at Ink with eyes that she couldn’t read. She only knew they were very pretty blue eyes with…was that a little yellow at the top? Oh god, they got prettier!

“Uh…” Ink said, unable to form words.

Error gazed at her silently for a few more seconds before smiling softly. The smile felt like a fatal wound against Ink’s heart. The pitter-patter of sudden rain distracted them both and they looked through the doors to the outside. It was raining now. And it was raining hard.

“Shit.” Ink heard Error swear beside her. Ink seconded the statement in her head.

“Yeah.” She said out loud. She hugged herself, already beginning to shiver. “And I have to walk without a jacket.”

Caught up in her worries, she didn’t notice Error staring at her. She felt something but she mostly ignored it in favour of deciding how to get home. A weight settled on her shoulders and she snapped out of it, looking down.

The jacket. Error’s jacket. Was on her shoulders.

She blinked at it for a few seconds, unable to get her brain to work properly. That is, until the jacket’s owner shifted beside her, sighing.

“Look,” Error said, drawing Ink’s attention. “I would drive you home too, but I was supposed to be home, like, five minutes ago so…” She gave an apologetic smile. It was illegal to be that pretty. Ink was suing her. “Sorry, you’ll still have to walk.” She bit her lip and seemed to think for a few seconds.

Before Ink could begin to catch up, Error brightened and snapped her fingers, fiddling with her phone. “I know! You’re going to the party, right? I’ll pick you up! What’s your address?”

Ink blinked and told her address without thinking.

“Great!” Error put her phone away and started to walk to her bike.

Ink blinked yet again. “What—wait! Your jacket—”

“Keep it!” Error called back putting on her helmet and hopping on her bike, starting it. She grinned back at Ink. “I can take it back when I pick you up. See you later, Doll!” With that, she drove off.

Ink stood there for a few more seconds. Her blushed had deepened from being called that pet name, though she was sure it was an accident. She smiled to herself, starting the walk home while gripping the jacket.

She had a new confidence within her.

Yeah, tonight she’ll make her move.

* * *

She can’t do this.

She was watching Error while standing by the wall with a cup in her hand. People talked all around her, but she couldn’t focus on anything but the biker. Error was currently laughing at something someone was saying.

(Again, it is definitely illegal to be that pretty.)

She wanted to move closer, to finally make her move. But so many things could go wrong. She didn’t even know if Error saw her the same way. But she did give Ink her jacket, which had been given back to her…

Ugh, why couldn’t this be simple?

Ink sighed and walked through the crowd of people and out to the backyard. Surprisingly, nobody was out there. She leaned her arms on the porch raining and looked up at the night sky. It was pretty, almost as pretty as Error.

“Aw, I’m flattered!”

Ink startled, losing her balance and almost falling but an arm stopped her. The two paused for a moment, the sounds of the party muffled behind them. Ink stared up at Error. She was sure her face was full-on rainbow by now. Error, on the other hand, seemed to think this was normal.

“Sorry!” Error eventually said, after a while of staring into Ink’s eyes. She helped Ink onto her feet before continuing, rubbing the back of her neck. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Doll.”

Ink’s heart skipped a beat at the nickname again. “It’s fine!” She managed to squeak out.

Error laughed. It was honestly the most beautiful sound Ink had ever heard. She took pride in the fact that she had been the cause of it. “Okay.”

They stood there together for a minute, looking anywhere but each other. The stars twinkled in amusement at them.

“Heya, Doll?” Error eventually said, tone unrecognizable.

Ink blinked. She looked back to Error, who was staring at her with an unreadable expression. “Yeah?”

Error didn’t say anything, only walked forward. She stopped when she was right in front of Ink, who hadn’t move in fear of disrupting this moment. It seemed almost magical to her. Their faces slowly moved forward until they were inches apart. In the last second, both of them closed their eyes and their lips connected.

It was a wonderful first kiss. A party in the background. The night sky above them. The sound of a polaroid camera taking their picture. Ink didn’t dwell on the last one, though, because at that moment…

At that moment, all she could think was:

_Man, I love the taste of sour candies now…_

* * *

Dream grinned as she placed the photo of Ink and Error kissing onto a board full of other people kissing. One more down.

Now, who would go out with Nightmare…?


	13. Error & Dream || (Part One) Cold Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS IMPLIED/REFERENCED PANIC ATTACK OR FLASHBACK.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

Someone was crying.

Error blinked, closing the portal behind him.

He stood there for a moment, mildly surprised by this. He says mildly because he always figured someone would find out about his reoccurring visits to Outertale without it being destroyed. It was only a matter of time.

Hopefully, it wasn't any of the 'light'/'Good' Sanses. He doesn't think he could handle another run-in with them so soon after a battle. Especially if that battle had ended up...well, let's just say no one got out of it without injury. Even him, and he had all these glitched stats that made it impossible for him to die. Though, he could still feel pain.

He was getting sidetracked.

Where was he...ah, yes! So, hopefully, the crying wasn't a trick from his enemies. He doubts it was, but he could never be too careful.

Although, there was a possibility that it was Blue, who was his dear friend. He smiled despite himself. Blue had been his friend for a few years now, ever since he kidnapped the Sans and told him about the balance. From then on, the other saw through the creator's lies and basically acted as a spy for Error and the 'Bad' Sanses.

The smile widened slightly at the thought of Nightmare and the others. He could still remember the first time they met...

* * *

_He stumbled blindly through whatever AU he had ended up in._

_Error signs had overtaken his vision, leaving him defenceless. He was glitching quite frantically, too. Pieces of him breaking off and slamming back into place, only to unsettle another piece opposite of it, repeating the process over and over._

_It hurt. It hurt so much. But he was used to it. This happened to him all of the time, so how could he not be? Even if the pain was amplified by the injuries leftover from his latest fight with Ink. The creator did know how to throw some mean attacks, he'll give him that._

_"Stupid squid..." Error grumbled to himself, voice glitching so much that he could barely make out his own words, tripping and just managing to catch himself with a tree, which he leaned on after. He growled, frustrated with himself. "Stupid soulless bastard..." He closed his eyes, not that it made a difference, and leaned his head against the bark of the tree, breathing for a moment._

_"My, my...you don't look good at all..."_

_However, when a smooth voice spoke from right in front of him, his eyes snapped open. He flinched and squinted from the sudden light. His eyes had cleared up._

_Well...at least he could see again._

_Once his eyes were somewhat adjusted, he glared at the person in front of him. He then blinked, half in shock and half in curiosity. The person in front of him was covered in a sort of...black...goo...thing. He didn't know what it was. Despite the sludge on him, the other was surprisingly calm, gazing at him with a piercing cyan eye (the other was covered with the sludge) that almost seemed to both glow and look deep into his soul. There was also a hint of...concern in his gaze._

_Error couldn't place a reason about why. He was the Destroyer. No one was supposed to care about him, as much as he wanted that to happen. He was just a filthy glitch. He was—_

_None of that mattered right now. Well, it did, but it wasn't the most important thing. That was knowing who this newcomer was and why he radiated a powerful aura, which he only now realized. He straightened so he wasn't leaning on the tree anymore._

_"Who are you?" He croaked out, voice back to the normal amount of glitches._

_The other blinked, tipping his head forward. Error got the feeling that he was surveying him, sizing him up. He tensed, prepared to fight if need be. The other seemed to notice this and frowned further. A cold feeling, like if someone dumped ice down his shirt, overcame him and he froze. The other was CHECKing him._

_He watched warily as the other's eye grew in surprise. Then, Error grew surprised when the others surprised faded to...concern and...anger? At Error? No, for Error. Interesting. No one reacted like that before. Then again, no one even checked him before so..._

_He could never be sure of anything. This was all new._

_The other seemed to come to a decision and walked a few steps toward Error before stopping when Error tensed, his hand coming to rest by his cheek, ready to draw his strings to fight. "I'm Nightmare," the other spoke, finally revealing who he was._

_Error narrowed his eyes._

_Nightmare noticed and held his hands up in a surrendering position. "Relax. I'm not here to fight you. In fact," he smiled, "I want to help you."_

* * *

Error had been rightfully surprised. No one wanted to help him. No one was supposed to.

After some explaining on both ends, and getting to know each other a little, Nightmare asked Error to come with him. To come to his home and stay there. Hesitantly, Error had agreed. It was the best decision he ever made. He got to know Horror, Killer, Dust and Cross, who had become good friends of him.

Now, they all saw each other as a family. A family who protected each other.

No matter what.

Coming back to himself, Error shook his head. None of this was important now.

Now, he had to focus on finding who was crying.

Yes, it could still be a trap. Yes, he could get hurt, even if it wasn't. But he couldn't ignore it. Just because he destroyed things, does not mean he didn't have morals. He had feelings. And besides...the crying reminded him too much of himself.

He shook his head again, scolding himself. _Focus, Error,_ he thought to himself, _Focus._

He followed the crying to near the edge of the rock they were on. Any further, and you would fall from existence. You would fall into the Void. This was, in his opinion, the best place to view the stars. It was so clear and pretty. It was so peaceful, too. He loved coming here and relaxing, making some more of his dolls.

But that's not what he was here for.

The crying was coming from behind a boulder a few steps away. Whoever it was, it seemed they were quite sad, or whatever emotion they were feeling, they were surely feeling it strongly. Error watched the boulder for a few seconds before walking around it, to the source of the crying.

He blinked in surprise.

Dream was there.

The positive guardian was curled up into a ball, hands held over his ears with his head bowed low. His chest was heaving rapidly, almost like he was just on the edge of hyperventilating, but he wasn't quite there yet. He sobbed, tears running down his face as fast as his chest moved. It was like...it was almost like he was trying to block out someone who was saying something mean.

Suddenly, Error felt a great deal of sympathy for the guardian. He knew how it felt, trying to block something out that only you could hear. He himself did it all the time. Usually, no one helped him.

He won't let Dream suffer the same. Even if the other was his enemy. Even if he had a sinking feeling that this wasn't the first time this happened.

He knelt down next to the other. Hesitating slightly (he briefly wondered where Nightmare was. He should have felt all this negativity.), he reached out and placed a hand on Dream's shoulder. He flinched at the contact, glitches wreaking havoc on his arm in his dislike. But he pushed through it, ignored it.

"Dream?" Error said, watching as Dream didn't react to his hand. He frowned. He was worried now. "Dream? Can you hear me?"

All he got was a sob in return.

He sighed, settling down. He knew he would be here for a while, but that was fine. He didn't really have anything he was going to do anyway.

* * *

Error wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there, rubbing Dream's arm in hopes that that was enough, before the other finally broke out of his...trance? Flashback?

Whatever it was, he perked up once he felt the other shift. He retreated his hand just in case, but stayed where he was sitting. He wanted to make sure the other would be alright before he left. So, he had to wait for Dream to get his bearing and notice him.

(He might be attacked, but he was willing to risk it.)

Anxious, but hiding that with a calm attitude, he watched as Dream took a few shaky breaths. The guardian blinked a couple of times, his eyes focusing more on his surroundings. Then, he stiffened. He didn't look in Error's direction, not yet, but the destroyer could tell that he knew he was there.

Neither of them said anything for a while. Error figured that Dream was expecting to be ridiculed or attacked, much like he did. But he wasn't going to do that, so he just shifted into a more comfortable position and looked at the stars. They were as beautiful as ever.

He waited.

After a few more minutes—probably even longer but he had no way to track the time, so oh well—Dream shifted as well. Error suddenly felt like he was being stared at, being judged. He forced himself to ignore it, however.

"...what are you doing?" Dream finally said. His voice was a bit rough and small.

"Watching the stars." Error replied. It wasn't the answer Dream was looking for, he knew that, but it was the truth.

"What are doing here? Now?" Was that annoyance Error heard?

He turned to look Dream in the eye. The guardian flinched slightly, wound up like a cat ready to run, and Error felt the slightest bit of guilt. "I told you. Watching the stars." He continued before Dream could get even more annoyed. "And making sure you're okay."

Dream blinked. It seems he had expected something far worse.

Error laughed inwardly, finding a bit of amusement in the guardian's reaction. He decided to explain anyway. "I came out here to relax, originally. Then, I heard someone crying, which worried me."

"Worried you?" Dream sounded like he couldn't believe what he had been told.

Error felt a bit annoyed. He rolled his eyes. "Yes, worried." He shook his head. "Is that really so hard to believe? I followed the sound to you." He gave Dream a searching look. "It looked like, to me, that you were having a flashback, or panic attack."

Dream looked away and Error, somehow, knew that he was right.

A flashback or panic attack.

Hm...

Those weren't two words that he thought of when he heard the title 'guardian of positivity'.

Error sighed and continued, looking at Dream even if he wasn't being looked at in return. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Dream was silent. He didn't look back at Error, who only sighed again, diverting his attention back to the stars as he waited again.

"...why?"

Error blinked and looked back to Dream. The guardian hadn't moved his gaze from the rock in front of him. "Why what?"

Dream huffed. "Just..." He waved his arms around, gesturing to nothing in particular. "Why?"

Error tilted his head. He was confused. Did he mean why he stayed to see if he was okay? "I wanted to make sure you were okay because I was worried. I—"

"No!" Dream interrupted him, snapping his gaze over to meet Error's confused one. "I mean, well, yes, thank you, but..." He sighed in frustration. "I didn't mean that. I meant...why do you destroy?"

Error blinked. Once. Twice. His confusion intensified. What did that have to do with the current events? Why he was here with Dream in the first place? He raised a brow at Dream. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Dream sighed and gained a pleading tone in his voice. "Just tell me, please."

Error gave him a last searching look. He didn't find what he was looking for. He didn't even know what he was looking for in the first place. "I destroy because of the balance. If I don't destroy, the AU's will start to crash into each other, which will cause the Multiverse to collapse."

Dream nodded slowly. "The balance..." He repeated. There wasn't any confusion or disbelief in his voice, which cause Error to become confused.

"Yes." Error was very confused and beginning to get a bit mad. "Did you know this already?" If he did, then why didn't he speak up? Why didn't he see the suffering and put an end to it? Was he just that selfish?

Error shook his head. No, he shouldn't jump to conclusions like that. There must be a reason for this. A good reason, not a bad one.

"The balance..." Dream mumbled. He didn't seem to have heard Error at all. As he continued, he seemed to be in pain, like something was stopping him from knowing this stuff. "There are...f-four...main balances...in the multiverse."

"Yes." Error confirmed, leaning forward. "Did you know this already, Dream?"

"I-hng!" Dream doubled over, suddenly grasping at his left forearm, like it was causing him pain.

Error's eyes widen and he sat up a little, now on his knees. He shifted towards Dream, hovering over the guardian, but not touching him. "Dream! Are you okay?"

Dream breathed hard for a few minutes. He then let go of his arm slowly, though his hand was shaking quite bad. He shook his head and leaned back up, which made Error move away a tad. Dream's gaze met Error's and Error frowned in concern. Dream's eyes were clouded with pain and confusion.

Dream swallowed and cleared his throat. "I-I knew that."

Error blinked. "Knew what?"

"About...about the balances." Dream frowned at himself, like he couldn't believe himself. "I knew that. But I also didn't."

Now Error was confused. "What?"

"I know I knew about the balances, but I don't...I don't remember knowing about them. But I..." Dream frowned even further and screwed his eyes shut. "I swear I knew about them. Why did I forget?"

Error also frowned, thinking over what was just said to him. "I don't know."

They sat there for a minute, trying to find an answer.

They didn't have enough pieces, though, so it was hard.

Eventually, Dream groaned in frustration and stood up, prompting Error to do the same. Dream met Error's eyes and smiled weakly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put this on you."

Error frowned. "It's no problem. I'm happy to help, if you'll let me."

Dream laughed. "Of course, sure. I think I'll need it." He took a deep breath, turned and opened a portal. He stared at the golden circle before turning back to Error. "What are doing today?"

Error blinked and tilted his head. "Blues made us some tacos, so probably just eating those and chatting with Nightmare. Why?"

Dream nodded his head. Something had flashed across his face at the mention of his brother, but it was gone too fast for Error to pin down. "Okay. I just wanted to know." He smiled at Error. "Hope you have fun."

Something warm entered Error's chest and he smiled back. "I will. Thanks."

Dream laughed again and waved him off before disappearing through his portal. Error watched the empty space before him for a few seconds before sighing, looking to the stars one last time before entering a portal of his own. It was time for tacos.

He ignored the uneasy feeling in his chest that told him something bad was going to happen.


	14. Dream || (Part Two) Cold Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS SELF-HARM, BODY HORROR (MAYBE?) AND MENTIONS OF VOMITING.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

As soon as Dream entered his room, he stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the dresser. He screwed his eyes shut, taking steadying breaths. There was still a dull throb in his forearm, but he ignored it for now.

Once situated, he opened his eyes and turned around, leaning on the dresser behind him. His room—that is, the one in Ink’s house—was…an average size. He thought it was, at least. He did grow up sleeping underneath a tree, after all, which would mess with someone’s sense of size. He thinks. He doesn’t actually know.

His room was also quite bare, having only a bed (which was adorned with a single pillow and a single sheet) and the dresser behind him, which would probably come as a surprise to people who didn’t know him that well. Those that did knew that Dream was on the run, most of the time, and rarely ever stayed in his assigned room.

It would be too confined for his tastes, anyways.

He liked his freedom. Anything else…

~~(…reminded him too much of being confined to a single spot, stone creeping over you like vines, restricting your movements as you watched your best friend, your brother, your only friend gaze at you with such evil in his eyes and—)~~

That wasn’t important right now. He wasn’t important right now.

What was important was…

Was…

…He couldn’t remember.

His brow furrowed and he frowned.

Dream had come here because…because it was the first place that popped into his mind. But…what had he been doing before this? He had…He racked his brain, not even registering (well, not consciously registering, anyway) the throb in his forearm intensifying. Stars above, why couldn’t he remember?

…

Error.

Error was…with him before all this.

Had the destroyer been attacking him? It would make sense, but he didn’t feel like that was the reason. Dream felt more like he had been…talking to him. Caring for him. That the destroyer had witnessed…one of his not-so-great moments.

(He refused to call them panic attacks. Flashbacks. Whatever. He was fine, after all.)

If Error had been just talking to him, then what were they talking about…?

…

…He couldn’t remember. This was becoming frustrating.

He hated this. These strange memory blocks that he got. Yes, they had happened before. He had just started noticing it about two years ago and keeping track of it for half the time. Usually, he found that he would be having a conversation or hanging out with Blue, and then just forget about what happened during those times.

Dream knew he did stuff, but he couldn’t remember what.

And that…

That scared him, somewhat.

It was silly, but it was also not normal.

And something told him that this conversation with Error was very important. Too important to brush off, like he eventually did with the others after hours of mulling them over. So, he scrunched his eyes up and thought hard.

…

…

…Motherf—

“Ghng!” Dream clutched at his head as it pounded suddenly, the memory of his conversation coming back to him. Then, he dropped his hand from his head to his forearm, clutching at it too, as it also hurt.

He forced himself to ignore it in favour of the memory. He couldn’t let it slip away again.

…The balances.

Oh god…The balances!

Dream clapped a hand over his mouth as nausea swirled up inside him. He choked down the urge to vomit, and instead took some calming breaths that didn’t work too well. The room swam around him and he slid to the floor, trying to focus on his knees in front of him.

How could he forget?

Who does that?

He knew about the balances. He grew up learning about them, as he was apart of one of them, for god’s sake! So, how did he just…forget? There was no memory of him knowing about the balances, of them even existing in the first place.

But he knows he knew about them.

He opened his eyes again (he didn’t know when he had closed them) when his arm gave yet another painful throb. That…that had happened far too much when he thought about the balances to be a coincidence.

…Come to think of it, who's to say that there wasn’t a correlation between all of this and his missing memories?

It made sense.

He wasn’t stupid. He may be ignorant sometimes and a little bit naive, but he wasn’t stupid like some people believed. He was rather smart, actually, and rather observant. He had to learn to be. So, it was easy to link it all together. That his missing memories, the balances and the pain in his arm were all connected somehow.

His arm gave another throb that made him wince. He glared at the appendage, raising it in front of his face. Something was wrong with it and he was determined to find out what.

(It occurred to him, in the far corner of his mind, that he probably shouldn’t do this without an expert, like a doctor. But he didn’t have the time for that. He needed to know what was keeping him from…)

…He needed to know what was keeping him from being with his brother.

Nodding to himself, Dream took a breath to steady his nerves and pulled his glove off slowly. He set it aside, gaze never leaving his forearm. From the underside, there was nothing wrong with it. He frowned and experimented by thinking about the balances. He winced at the predicted throb, turning his arm around, to where the pain originated from.

He blinked.

There was an area right around his wrist, but not too close to his hand, that was discoloured. Like there was a small bruise, or something. Only this was some kind of green colour. Y’know, like the colour on pets that show they’ve been chipped.

The realization gave him chills, which in turn had him cold.

He…hadn’t really expected to find anything, if he was being honest.

Now what?

…

…He had to find out why this was on his arm. If he had been, like he was beginning to suspect, been chipped like a pet for their owner to find, then he had to prove it to himself. The idea seemed too surreal to be, well, real.

He stumbled to his feet and out his door, all the way to the kitchen. Ink was out doing…something that he couldn’t remember, so he didn’t need to worry about running into him. Something about doing so just…rubbed him the wrong way.

He opened the drawer to the utensils and pulled out a knife. It was a small knife, but it was still a sharp one. Still one that could be used for…cutting multiple things, not all of them food.

Dream shook his head from those thoughts and laid his arm on the counter. He stared at the decolorization for a moment. Somewhere, in the farthest corner of his mind, he realized that he didn’t need to do it this way. That this way was probably the least healthy way imaginable. But…He had to.

He had to.

Gritting his teeth together and steeling himself as to not make a sound, he dug the knife into his arm.

…

God, it hurt. It hurt so much.

He barely caught a scream before it could escape. He panted at the effort, vision blurring from the sudden onset of pain. He thought he was prepared. Nothing could’ve prepared him for this. Nothing in the entire Multiverse. He almost decided to throw in the towel then and there and just give up.

But he didn’t. He didn’t because he had to get answers.

He sucked in a breath and tightened his grip on the knife. He had to finish this.

Swallowing carefully, he moved the knife around, holding in another scream at the pain. He created a wound in his arm and he set the knife down beside him on the counter. His arm was still in tremendous pain. He even had to hold himself upright against the counter as his vision darkened and threatened to send him to sleep.

He took another breath. In. Stop.

He plunged his fingers into the wound, which hurt much worse than the knife.

Out. Stop.

A whine built up in his throat and he had to choke it down before it became a scream. He moved his fingers around, eventually gripping onto something.

In. Stop.

Something small and rectangular and…

Out. Stop.

…and metal.

With a last deep breath in, Dream made sure he had a secure hold on the chip in his arm and then he y a n k e d.

* * *

Dream woke up on the floor.

He blinked at the ceiling, a strange sense of calm confusion filling him. There was a dull ringing in his ears, he noted absently, which made this all feel a bit like a dream. Like he was asleep still, even if he felt himself wake up. It happened.

Then, there was the pain in his arm.

Sitting up slowly, pacing himself as the slightest movement did send the room into a spin, Dream groaned slightly. He looked to his arm, which was…

Injured.

It was injured alright.

There was a gaping wound in his arm that was spilling blood out rather steadily. Well, that explained the dizziness. And why he woke up on the floor in the first place. He must’ve passed out because of what he did.

What he did…

He…remembered.

Not only did he remember what he did just now (or however long ago), he remembered the missing conversations in his memories. He was right. They all had to do with the balances.

In every single one of them, someone around him had mentioned the balances.

And every single one of them he had forgotten about. Until now.

But…why?

Dream grabbed the edge of the counter above him with his good arm and pulled himself onto his feet. Almost immediately, his vision began to blackout again, but this time he screwed his eyes shut and pushed the feeling away. Once secure, he racked his brain for the one memory that would tell him why he forgot all these things.

…

…Ink.

It was…It was Ink.

Ink had taken him to Sci’s for, as he called it, a ‘check-up’. To make sure everything was okay in that world. Only, unbeknownst to past him, that wasn’t what they were there for at all.

They had entered Sci’s office and Ink had locked the door behind him and…

And Sci wasn’t there.

Sci’s office had been unusually dark, which had made him a bit uneasy, but as long as Ink was with him, he would be fine. God, he was so trusting and so…so gullible. Ink had led him into the room and stopped so suddenly that he almost crashed into the creator's back, though he stopped himself in time.

He had questioned why Ink had stopped.

Ink had then…

Ink said that he was going to erase part of his memory. Just like that. So bluntly too.

With a growing sense of unease, Dream had asked why.

Then Ink explained that if he let Dream keep his knowledge of the balances, then the guardian would eventually leave him. Others would take him away and then the creator would lose the one person who made him feel happy without his vials.

And he couldn’t let that happen.

It got blurry from there, but Dream could fill in the gaps.

Ink had somehow knocked him out and Sci had placed that chip in his arm. Then, his memory of waking up there was to a concerned Ink and a nervous Sci. Ink had asked him what he remembered and he said that he had passed out, which made Ink smile. Ink then—

Wait.

The chip…

Dream looked around the floor frantically, ignoring the blood spots and the drip as more blood ran off of his arm onto the ground. He spotted the metal thing in the far corner of his eye. He picked it up and inspected it. It looked like a normal chip, metal and smeared with blood from having been inside his arm.

Now that he thought about it, he probably shouldn’t have yanked this thing out.

But it was too late now.

He stood there in silence for a minute.

Now what? He got what he wanted. He knew what he had wanted to know. So, the question is what he did with this knowledge.

Then he recalled Error, how worried the other was.

He needed to tell the other about what he learned.

Oh, but he would be hanging out with Nightmare and the gang, eating…tacos…

Blue.

Blue would help him tell Error. Hopefully.


	15. INTERMISSION: SENTENCE DRABBLES START

I'm sorry, but I interrupt your oneshot reading to bring you some drabbles! Short, but funny, these may be a thing that makes you smile. The good thing is, you can read lots without getting too bored.

These drabbles come from a prompt on Tumblr. It said, "send me a sentence and I'll write the next five." Of course, me being me, it turned into drabbles and recently began to turn into something between a oneshot and a drabble. Long, but not, and short, yet not. The perfect thing to get me to write when I'm not really in the mood.

This is all. I will speak with you again after the intermission!

P.S. - If you would like, give me a follow over on Tumblr at AnnaRaeBanana (annaraebananawriter)! You can come yell at me for my stories.


	16. Such a Shame || Inksomnia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xadeone asked: Sentence: "What was happening made Error wonder why he haven't erased everyone and everything yet..." aaandd if this isn't a problem for you with the ship: Error x Dream x Ink poly? Inksomnia shenanigans! xD Im corious of what you can come up with! Thank you~

_What was happening made Error wonder why he hasn't erased everyone and everything yet._ He leaned his head on his hand and watched with half-lidded eyes.

"Shut up, Dream," Ink was saying, as he waved a towel over the burning food. The towel caught on fire and he let go of it with a yelp. He blushed a little and glared at Dream. "I have it handled."

Dream raised his brows, looking between the fire and Ink, sputtered for a moment and then sighed. He gave Ink a deadpan look. Before he could say anything, however, the fire grew to encompass the entire stovetop. This made the guardians yelp and scramble for something to put it out with.

Error watched the fire in front of him and sipped at his coffee, making a face when he discovered it had gone cold. He dumped it in the sink and put the mug down.

He paused, staring at the telling ring on his finger.

Ah yes, he had gone and fallen in love and married two idiots who wouldn't let him do it. Such a shame.


	17. Overprotective Dad || Ink & Cross

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xadeone asked: Since you are still open to the sentence/drabble thing, i got one more! "I don't want you near my daugther ever again..." Cross and Ink (About Lux)

_"I don't want you near my daughter ever again."_ Cross hissed, glaring at Ink. "I don't care if you used to be our friend, I don't want you to even look at her again. Understood?"

Ink slumped and groaned. He waved a hand through the air. "Oh come on, Cross! It won't happen again, okay?" He tried to give Cross a version of some puppy dog-like eyes. It didn't work.

"I don't care! She could've wandered off under the watch of someone like you, who forgets about a conversation he had a minute after it happened. No one should trust you with another person, let alone a five-year-old one!"

"Cross, I only took her to the–"

"You took her UNSUPERVISED!"

"–to the GODDAMN POOL, MAN! WE weren't even going to go in the deep end! It would've been fine!"


	18. Morning Shocks || Dream & Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fiddlethecat asked: So for the one sentence thing, maybe Dream to Nightmare, "You're going to be an uncle, and I want you to be a part of their life!"

_"You're going to be an uncle and I want you to be a part of their life!"_ Dream chirped too cheerfully for someone awake at five in the morning.

Nightmare blinked from his place beside the lights, his hand still resting on the lightswitch he just turned on. The other had held an empty mug that he had come to place in the sink. He blinked again, slower, as he tried to process this.

He opened his mouth a few times before he found words. He took his hand off the light and waved it through the air as if dispelling an image. "Okay, backtrack for a minute here." His hand stopped moving and he looked at Dream. "First off, how did you get into my castle?"

Dream shifted a bit, looking away. "...That doesn't matter right now."

Nightmare stared at him. "Okay." He then walked past Dream and filled up his mug, taking a sip of his new cup of coffee. He sighed and turned back to Dream. Might as well just accept this. "Next, who's the other half of this relationship?" he took another sip of his coffee.

Dream brightened. "Oh, it's [NAME]"

Nightmare choked.


	19. Barophobia || Horror & Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xadeone asked: I have a weird one: "Horror was experiencing... Some trouble" Barophobia, fear of gravity. With Nightmare's gang

_Horror was experiencing some...trouble._

"JUST CALM DOWN ALREADY!"

"I CAN'T CALM DOWN!"

"FOR GOD'S SAKE–"

You see, Nightmare had decided that they would do a bit of a supply run. For groceries and things of that sort. Of course, everyone wanted to come because they all had something they wanted to get too. Everything was going swell, surprisingly...

Then Dust 'accidentally' killed someone.

Now, they were on the run from the authorities of that AU. They had made it to the forest around the city, but their path was cut off by the cliff in front of them. Killer suggested that they jump. Everyone agreed.

Horror did not.

"You'll be fine!" Nightmare snapped, clearly fed up. Everyone flinched as the yelling got louder. They were running out of time.

"I don't care!" Horror snapped back, crossing his arms. "You can jump off and get crushed by gravity. Me? I'll be here safe and sound." Honestly, what was Nightmare thinking? Sure, let's all just jump off a cliff and let gravity take the wheel–not like we'll be crushed by the weight of the air when we land!

Suddenly, Horror felt a push on his back and he was falling. Despite himself, he screamed, unable to stop his fear from rising up. Oh god, here was when he died! All because of the stupid thing called freefalling, where gravity was non-existent and, if they were on any other planet, float away–

Just as suddenly, he was stopped, moments before his head touched the ground. He stopped screaming and panted for a few seconds. Horror looked up at the slimy tentacle wrapped around his ankles.

"See?!" Nightmare said, appearing from the shadows with his arms crossed. His stare was disappointed. "I told you you'd be fine!" He paused. "Anyways, you did realize we were just going to teleport away, right?"

"..."

"...right?"

"...oh."


	20. Autophobia || Ink & Blue & Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xadeone asked: I promise this is the last one, it just came to my mind and i needed to: "Ok, this hide and seek thing isn't fun any more, guys where are you?!" Autophobia, fear of being alone. With Ink, Dream and Blue, you pick who's the one talking. Sorry for so many request ahfksfhs

_“Ok, this game of hide and seek isn’t fun anymore, where are you guys?!”_ Blue said, wrapping his arms around himself as he looked around him at the trees.

His voice echoed in the forest, silence reigning after. He shivered. He didn’t like being alone, never has. It just...made him think things that he knew to be silly and untrue, but he still couldn’t help but believe. Like now...

**_What if they left you here on purpose?_ **

**_They hate you._ **

**_They just hung out with you out of pity._ **

**_They. Hate. You._ **

His eyes filled up with tears and he hunched his shoulders, as if to hide from his thoughts though he knew it wouldn’t work. The forest seemed to grow quieter, like there were no animals around. 

His chest grew tight.

His breath hitched.

A twig snapped behind him and Blue spun around, only to jump back as Ink popped out of the air and shouted, “BOO!”

Ink started laughing when Blue jumped back. Dream appeared behind Ink, a frown full of worry on his face that grew when he noticed the tears starting down Blue’s face. Dream then glared at Ink, elbowed him and whispered something in his ear. Ink gradually stopped laughing.

Blue watched as Dream walked up to him and gazed at him with a knowing look in his eyes. Silently, the guardian of positivity gathered Blue in his arms and hugged him tightly. Blue stilled for a moment, then broke, burying his head in Dream’s shoulder as he cried. Another set of arms encased the two of them and the three stood there for a while.

No words were needed.


	21. INTERMISSION: SENTENCE DRABBLES END

This concludes the intermission! 

Shortly, we should return to the regular showings of oneshots. Although, I will inform you know that I may return with a new oneshot instead of the next part to 'Cold Truths'. This is because I need to get back into it. I will complete it, however, so don't worry.

Also, note that this intermission will return again in the future.


	22. Dream || (Part One) I Want to Forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS IMPLIED RAPE, SOME SELF HARM AND SOME SELF DEPRECIATION.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

Dream sighed and swirled the drink around in his hand. The ice clinked against the glass and he propped his head on his arm, sighing. Someone shouted something in the background and he winced as the crowd cheered, the music becoming louder as it built up for a drop.

He was in an AU that he hadn’t learned the name of. Ink hadn’t let him know where they were going when he dragged him through a portal, through the streets and to this bar. He had said something about coming to unwind and have fun, as Dream had apparently been ‘no fun’ recently. Although, it was kind of pointless of that talk coming from someone who didn’t actually care about his job.

Anyways, Ink had left about an hour ago. Dream suspected that he had drunk too much and eventually forgot about the friend he dragged along. It was fine. It had happened before. Usually, Dream would just leave on his own after he noticed that.

He didn’t know why he was staying this time.

He stared at his drink. Maybe it was because he knew that Ink was right. He had been working himself rather hard recently. Nightmare had been attacking AUs left and right and while Dream understood the point of it—to help maintain the balance—he didn’t know why his brother killed people. Hurting people kept the balance enough. Death was pointless.

He sighed. At this rate, he was just going to get himself down. Wasn’t that the opposite of relaxing/winding down? Stifling a bitter laugh at himself, he raised his glass and took a sip. He sighed in satisfaction as the water cooled his throat and cleared his head a bit.

Yes, it was water. He wasn’t too keen on alcohol, no matter how little something contained of it. He had never been. That’s not to say he had never drunk before, though. No, the villagers had made him try some of their mead at one point (even if he was still barely 300 years old). It had been rather bitter, so he never got used to the taste. He turned down any other attempts at trying it.

The stool to the right of him creaked suddenly and he looked up. A male human smiled at him warmly, setting down his own bottle of beer. The human seemed to be a young adult, with wavy blonde hair and some stubble around his mouth. He had green eyes that seemed to sparkle a brighter colour when the light hit them. He wore a simple t-shirt and Dream could guess that the rest of his outfit was simple too.

“Heya,” the human said, “you’re Dream, right?”

Dream blinked. It was true that almost every AU knew of the outcodes and their jobs, though rarely were they ever approached. People usually viewed them as a sort of god, which discouraged them from approaching. Yet, this human seemed to not get the memo.

Realizing that he was being a bit rude by not responding, Dream hurriedly smiled and stuck out a hand. “A-ah, yes! That’s me.”

The human laughed and shook his hand gladly. He had a firm yet gentle grip. “Cool! The name’s Jake.” Their hands slid back to their owners. He fixed Dream with a sort of teasing look as he took a swig of his drink. “So, what’s the Guardian of Positivity doing in a bar all by himself.”

Dream’s smile melted into something more natural. “Well, I was with Ink, but he left me here a while ago.”

Jake sighed, lowering his drink. “Aw man, that sucks! I know what it’s like to be left behind by friends before.” His eyes conveyed so much sincerity that Dream found himself becoming even more relaxed. “I’m sorry that it happened to you.”

Dream shook his head. “It’s fine. It’s, uh…it’s happened before, so I’m used to it.”

Jake frowned further. “Still. No one deserves to be left behind.”

“True.”

They talked for a long time. Dream learned a lot about Jake in this time, though Jake did tend to ramble, realize he was rambling, apologize and then ramble again. Dream didn’t mind. He found it nice that Jake was acting like Dream was just another person, instead of basically a god. Dream, in turn, talked about the other worlds he’s seen and what exactly his job is.

Jake had just been wrapping up explaining why he decided to become a lawyer hen he went to take another swig of his drink and frowned when he realized it was empty. “Darn.” He said, standing up to go get another drink when he paused. “Hey, do you want me to get you a refill, too?”

Dream blinked and looked at his drink. His glass was empty save for some ice. “Oh, uh…It’s fine. I was just having water, anyways.”

Jake smiled. “C’mon.” He tilted his head, looking imploringly at Dream. “I’ll get you some more water?”

Dream hesitated. “…alright.”

Jake beamed, taking his glass. “Great! Be right back.” He turned and walked over to the bar, set the drinks down and waved over a bartender.

Dream laughed softly to himself, looking around. The music had faded a while ago, which he just now noticed. There was a significant decrease in people too. That made Dream pause and wonder how long he had been talking to Jake. Was it long enough that Ink and Blue would’ve noticed? Maybe. But they knew that Dream could take care of himself, so they would probably wait a bit longer yet.

Jake returned at that time, stopping Dream from continuing his thoughts. He smiled and took his water, immediately taking a sip, following by Jake taking a sip of his own drink. They set their drinks down at the same time, sighing in sync. They blinked at each other and giggled.

They resumed talking about anything. It was nice, Dream mused, talking with someone new. He was glad that Jake decided to approach him. Even if they would likely never see each other again, it would be a nice memory to look back on.

~~(Future Dream looks back on this thought and laughs at how foolish he was.)~~

Dream was recounting a story of Ink’s antics to him when it happened.

“…so, I had to chase him through various AU’s until I eventually—” The room suddenly began to spin around him and Dream gasped slightly, trying to hold himself upright. His eyes gained a heaviness to them and he struggled to keep them open.

“Dream?” He heard Jake through the haze of his mind. He sounded concerned. Dream focused on the human, who had put a steadying hand on his arm. “Are you alright?”

Dream struggled to speak. “I…I d’know.” He blinked at his own voice. It was slurred. He could’ve sworn that he had been wide awake all day, though, so why was he now, all of a sudden, so sleepy?

He dimly heard Jake swear and get up, bracing Dream against his body. “Okay, uh…maybe it’s just a crash? You did say you had been working pretty hard and sleeping little, so maybe it’s just a crash of not getting enough sleep.”

Dream blinked and felt himself being nudged off of the stool and onto his feet. His knees threatened to buckle beneath him, but Jake’s arm wrapped around his waist, the other held his arm and the human maneuvered them to the door. Someone shouted at them and Jake shouted something back before they left the building.

The world outside was darkening as they walked, though that could just be Dream beginning to pass out. Jake was still talking as they walked and he made out something about taking Dream home to rest. Since Jake couldn’t travel between AU’s, he must mean his house. That was fine. He trusted Jake.

~~(Stupid, stupid, stupid stupid stupidstupidstupi—)~~

Dream was helped into the passenger seat of a car and then the world went dark.

* * *

Dream woke up on a bed that wasn’t his, his mind muddled. He blinked hard, struggling to keep his eyes open. The room swam around him, even though he could only see black.

He was…confused.

The last thing he remembered was talking with…Jake. Then he had started to get dizzy…or…sleepy, one of the two, maybe even both. Jake had…said something about…taking him home? As Jake couldn’t teleport through AUs and Dream wasn’t at his home, then Jake must’ve meant his home.

…Why?

He supposed it could be out the kindness of Jake’s heart, but something about this situation rubbed him the wrong way. Which was stupid

~~(He was stupid—)~~

—Jake had been nothing but nice to him! Why would that all of a sudden change? He was being stupid. Jake was a good guy. He was kind, funny and helpful, if the concern over Dream was anything to go by.

He was overthinking things again.

Everything was fine!

After all—

He…couldn’t move his hands.

Well, he could, but he couldn’t bring them down from where they were…tied to the headboard? He tried to look up at them, squinting through the darkness to see what was holding him. He couldn’t see anything, no matter how hard he tried, but it felt like…rope.

He settled back down and tried to breathe calmly through the sudden tightness of his chest.

Okay. Okay…

This was…not…fine, exactly, but there had to be a reason for this!

Dream refused to believe anything else.

The door—which was apparently across from him—opened, letting light into the room for a split second before it was closed again. There was a faint click. The door was…locked. This did not help to subdue the tightness in his chest. Someone walked around the room, saying nothing as they made their way towards Dream.

The tightness in his chest grew.

Dream swallowed.

This was…

This was still…fine.

~~(It wasn’t, not really—)~~

There…there still had to be a reason for this.

~~(There wasn’t—)~~

The bed dipped beside Dream and he felt someone crawl above him. There wasn’t any more movement for a second. Then the person buried their head against Dream’s neck, a sound almost like a purr coming from them.

Dream’s breath caught in his throat.

Something itched at the back of his mind.

When the door was first opened, and light illuminated the room, it also illuminated the person. It was a short window of time, yes, but it had been enough for Dream to recognize the blond-haired individual. He hadn’t asked then because he had been hoping for this to not be real, that it was all just a dream. It wasn’t.

After all, dreams don’t have someone touching you without your consent.

That was more like a…nightmare.

However, it wasn’t just a figment of his imagination.

Dream wasn’t asleep.

That…that was a fact.

“…Jake…?” Dream managed to whisper; a small bit of hope left remaining that he was wrong. Though…he knew it was useless. The hand that had begun travelling across his chest paused and hovered in place for a minute.

Which was all the answer he needed.

Tears welled up in Dream’s eyes, spilling over silently as the hand of someone he was just beginning to call a friend began up again, travelling down and under his shirt, brimming with bad intentions.

* * *

Dream woke back up again on the same bed, his hands untied and light coming from the window. He had a split second of confusion, of relieve from not remembering what happened, before it all came back.

~~****_Tears welling up and spilling over—_ ** ** ~~

~~****_A hand crawling over him, under his shirt—_ ** ** ~~

~~****_Stripping him of his clothes—_ ** ** ~~

~~****_Travelling down, down, down, down—_ ** ** ~~

His lower half hurt.

Dream laid there for a minute, the tightness coming back in his chest. His hands began to tremble. Ghost touches travelled over him and his breath caught, leaving him gasping for air. A whine started in the back of his throat.

He had to leave.

He had to get out, get home.

Get somewhere safe.

Dream sat up quickly, trembling spreading to the rest of his body. He ignored the stains to the best of his abilities, his lower half throbbing in remembrance. He forced himself to breathe fully. Pushing himself to swing his legs off the bed, he stood up, ignoring the shakiness of his legs that threatened to make him collapse.

His breath caught again as the soreness appeared again.

He…he couldn’t do this now.

He had to get out.

He would have time to panic later.

He breathed in. Out.

In. Out.

Dream’s gaze was drawn to the dresser, where his clothes rested. They were neatly folded and seemed to be washed. Beside the clothing was a tray of food, along with a glass of water. Just seeing the food made his stomach churn and the water brought unbidden memories of trickery and laughter.

Tears welled up again and—

Breathe. In. Out.

In. Out.

I-In…Out…

Dream shook his head roughly, digging his fingers in his arm until his breathing settled again.

He gathered his clothes and got dressed quickly.

In…Out…

He ignored the pain when he put his pants back on.

…I-In?...

His hands trembled worse as he put his shirt back on and clasped his cape over it.

…O…u-ut…I-I…n…

A sob ripped its way out of his mouth and Dream broke.

He collapsed to the ground, crying and whining, breathing sped up, hand pressed against his mouth to try and quiet himself. He curled up against the dresser, his crown tipping off the edge onto the floor in front of him. Dream cringed at the clang of the metal with the floor, the sound too loud for him right now.

He ducked his head down until his forehead pressed against his knees. The hand that wasn’t on his mouth gripped onto his cape tightly, as if if he held on tight enough, all of this would go away.

He sobbed again, another whine making its way out and—

Humming.

No, not humming, singing.

Someone was…singing.

At first, Dream had the overwhelming fear that it was Jake. Jake, who did something so unthinkable, had come back singing some stupid song. Though, the voice was too deep to be Jake's. He would also like to think that it was too nice to be Jake’s, as well.

So…it wasn’t Jake. That made him relax slightly.

His hearing levelled out, the ringing that had appeared calming down and becoming background noise, leaving the words clear.

“ _…he took the heart of a little boy, and made it grow up too fast…_ ”

Dream relaxed further.

This voice was…familiar.

“ _Now words like innocence, don’t mean a thing._ ”

It reminded him of waking up to someone’s arms wrapped around him, comforting words being whispered as he recovered from the horrible images his mind made up as he slept. It reminded him of running around and tagging someone, only to be tackled and tickled until he could barely breathe anymore.

“ _You hear the music play, but you can’t sing._ ”

It reminded him…of Nightmare.

“ _Those pictures in your mind keep you locked up inside your past…_ ”

The voice paused. He switched to a different song.

“ _I know it’s all you’ve got to just be strong…_ ”

Dream opened his eyes, though he didn’t remember closing them.

“ _And it’s a fight just to keep it together…together…_ ”

His companion switched back to humming.

Dream took that as his queue to look up.

Ah…so that’s why it was…that made sense.

Nightmare sat in front of him, back leaned up against the dresser. His legs were stretched in front of him. Dream’s crown was held in his hands, being swung around and around. It stilled as Dream watched.

Dream drew his eyes up to meet Nightmare’s one piercing eye.

They stared at each other for a minute.

Then, Dream saw it. That one look in Nightmare’s eye, one that reflected his aura. It was…a knowing look. Not a pitying one, not a sympathetic one, just a knowing one.

Which was the only one Dream needed.

Tears welled up in his eyes again.

Nightmare started singing again.

“ _Just take…one step…closer…put one foot in front of the other…_ ”

Nightmare set Dream’s crown down beside him and held out his arms.

“ _…You’ll get…through this…just follow the light in the darkness…_ ”

Dream sobbed again and threw himself into his brother’s arms, ignoring the prickling sensation that told him the touch wasn’t okay.

“ _You’re gonna be okay._ ”


	23. Dream & Nightmare || (Part Two) I Want to Forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS IMPLIED RAPE, SELF DEPRECIATION AND PANIC ATTACKS.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Dream always loved the sunrise.

No matter what happened during the day or during the night, the sunrise stayed the same. It was so pretty, all the time, without fail. It was the one constant that helped Dream prepare himself for the oncoming times, helped him be able to stay in the right mindset and optimistic attitude.

The pinks and the blues and the purples…they just helped him.

It was especially needed now.

After the…incident with…J-Jake…, Nightmare had asked Dream what he was going to do now. His brother, Dream knew, had expected Dream to say he would tell his friends what happened and get the proper help. Which was why, when Dream said that he didn’t want to bother them, Nightmare was a bit surprised.

And angry. Not at Dream himself, not exactly, as he clarified in fear of Dream getting the wrong idea, but he was angry at those thoughts, the ones that told Dream he was bothering people with his problems. This had sparked a long-overdue conversation about what exactly made him think these things and why they were foolish. Nightmare then had calmed down a bit and they fell into silence for a bit.

“Well,” Nightmare had said after a minute, “if you’re not going to tell your friends, then you're coming home with me.” He had looked Dream right in the eyes, making a promise that was broken in the past, but wouldn’t be again. “I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

A few days later, and they were here now, at the present.

Nightmare had followed through on his promise. Dream had been given a room all to himself, which was right across from Nightmares. The room had been decorated in yellow, like it had been waiting for him for a long time.

It was nice, he supposed.

So nice that he hadn’t left it since he was shown to it.

Dream sighed, leaning his head against the window, hugging his knees tighter. The sun completed its rise over the horizon, officially starting the new day, day four of the promise. A promise that he knew he was avoiding by staying here.

But he just…couldn’t bring himself to let it try to hold this time.

He didn’t want to be disappointed when it inevitably fell through.

And it would, he knew it would.

He looked over to the bed that remained untouched. It had been another sleepless night. Dream knew that it was unhealthy to avoid sleeping, but he feared what his mind would come up with if he did. He had always had terrible nightmares.

Dream sighed again.

Time to spend another day in his self-isolation…

****~oOo~** **

It was around noon—Dream guessed based on the position of the sun—when there was a knock at his door. Again. Like there had been yesterday and the days before, all at this exact time.

He froze, just as always, gaze snapping up to the door as if if he stared long enough, he would be able to tell who was on the other side of it. His hand stilled on the page of his book, a simple collection of fairy tales. The person on the other side of the door knocked again after a beat, like always. He didn’t dare to breathe and stayed staring at the door, making no move to open it.

The standstill went on for another minute, until Dream heard a faint sigh come through the door and light footsteps walk away, again. He stared at the door for a few more minutes, making sure that the person had truly left, again.

Dream slowly returned to his book, ignoring the pang of guilt at ignoring them, again.

Again, again, again…

He wondered faintly if he was ever going to open that door.

Flinching as he got a paper cut, though making himself ignore the instinct to suck on the injury, he sighed. He tried to focus back on the words, but the knock had shaken him out of his fragile calmness and the words all blurred together. Without the stories as a distraction, the bad images came.

~~****Down, down, down, down—** ** ~~

~~****Fear, panic, guilt, confusion—** ** ~~

~~****Hurting, hurting, hurting, hurting—** ** ~~

Dream let the book fall out of his hands and thump against the ground, the loud noise stopping the images from going too far, making him sigh in relief and also wince, looking frantically at the door, hoping no one else heard it. Taking a shaky breath in, he shuddered.

He was fine. Fine, fine, fine.

He could deal with this on his own. Alone, alone, alone.

He didn’t need to bother anyone, friends or family, with his problems. Bother, bother, bother.

Dream sighed.

That door would stay firmly closed, if he had anything to say about it.

****~oOo~** **

_(Deep down, something cried out._

_A little boy, lost and afraid, begged and cried for someone, anyone to come._

_He wanted his friends._

_He wanted to be okay._

_He wanted Nightmare._

_A little boy, lost and afraid, begged and cried for someone, anyone to come._

_But nobody came…)_

****~oOo~** **

At noon the next day, there wasn’t a knock.

It was silent.

Dream stared at the door. It had become something he had come to expect, and now that it didn’t happen, it through him off as much as the knock usually did. His hand twitched, as if he wanted to go and open the door. He quickly made a fist with his hand to stop the feeling, his eyes widening a bit in panic.

He wasn’t supposed to feel like that. He was supposed to want to keep it inside and deal with it on his own, because that’s what he’s supposed to do. If he were to open that door, he would be hurt, inevitably. He would be hurt and be sent back to square one, when he had just escaped from his stone prison, alone for the first time. That can’t happen. It—

~~****—down, hurting, fear, down, hurting, panic, down, stupid, naïve, stupid, stupid—** ** ~~

—He flinched hard, slamming the book shut and setting it down, ignoring his shaking hands as he inhaled sharply, swallowing. Wrong, wrong, wrong. He was stronger than this. He could handle this.

He had to handle this.

He—

~~****—stupidstupididiotidiotdowndownhurthurthurtpanicpanicfearfearfearfeardiedieDIE—** ** ~~

—He flinched again, heartbeat quickening, breathing quickening too. He tried to calm himself down. If he panicked too much…Nightmare would feel his fear. He would come and insist on helping, like Dream always did.

He smiled bitterly, tears appearing in the corner of his eyes.

Oh, how the tables turned.

****~oOo~** **

_(Deep down, something cried out._

_A little boy, lost and afraid, begged and cried for someone, anyone to come._

_The Shadows and Bad Thoughts appeared, frightening him more._

_They wrapped around him, dragging him down, holding him captive._

_A little boy, lost and afraid, begged and cried for someone, anyone to come._

_But_ — _)_

****~oOo~** **

~~****—** ** ****his fault, his fault, his fault, his fault, his fault, always, always, always his fault—** ** ~~

“Dream?”

Dream flinched, looking up from where he had fallen, gripping his legs tighter to ground himself. He ignored the bad images in his mind, the whispers of truth and lies in his head and focused on Nightmare, who stood next to the door, which closed behind him with a small click.

As he watched, Nightmare let his hand fall off of the doorknob behind him, eyes still locked onto Dream’s frame. He made no attempts to move, though his tentacles flicked behind him. He wanted to approach, Dream realized, but he was afraid of Dream spiralling even more.

…Interesting.

“Dream?” Nightmare repeated, tilting his head and Dream flinched.

****~oOo~** **

_(—nobody—)_

****~oOo~** **

~~****—always his fault, always, always, always, stupid, stupid, down, down, down—** ** ~~

Dream inhaled sharply, wishing he could block out his thoughts. More tears gathered, finally pushing down ~~— ** **down, down**** —~~his cheeks, falling off onto his clothes.

Nightmare seemed to feel his rising panic, as he blinked, paused, and sighed. ~~****(Annoying, annoying, annoying, annoying)****~~ He walked forward, ignoring Dream’s attempts to further the distance despite the wall behind him, until he was right in front of Dream. Nightmare bent down, not touching, not hovering, but staying within Dream’s eyesight.

~~****—bad, bad, bad, bad, bother, bother, bother—** ** ~~

“Dream,” Nightmare started again, capturing Dream’s attention. “you’re okay. You’re safe.” He tilted his head, “You know that, right?”

He said it with such gentleness and sincerity that it brought new tears to Dream’s eyes. ~~****(Don’t deserve, don’t deserve, don’t deserve)****~~ Dream tried to say something, but his voice was stuck in his throat. It made him confused. He knew he was safe, didn’t he? That he was okay? He had to have; he wasn’t…there…anymore.

So, he knew he was safe and okay and fine, right?

…the hesitation to believe Nightmare proved him wrong.

Dream didn’t understand himself. ~~****(Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid)****~~ He knew where he was, a place far, far away from…him…and his place, so he should know he was safe. There shouldn’t be a hesitation to believe he was when he knew that he was.

Then…why couldn’t he trust that he was?

…was he really that pathetic?

~~****—pathetic, pathetic, worthless, pathetic, worthless, worthless, worthless** ** ****—** ** ~~

Nightmare seemed to understand him without him voicing anything, thankfully. He nodded, and said quietly, “Okay.”

He seemed to rock back on his heels, looking around the room. His gaze landed on the bed, which was still neatly made. The observation made him frown, and Dream knew that he had been caught. Dream looked down as he felt Nightmare’s gaze on him.

“Dream,” Nightmare started, a hint of disapproval in his voice, “have you slept at all?”

Dream stayed silent, which was answer enough.

“You’ve been here for almost a week and you haven’t slept in all that time?” Now his voice held a hint of disbelief. “Dream, that’s very unhealthy, you know that! You need to sleep!”

A spike of fear rose in Dream before he could smother it down. He tensed, boring a hole into his knees, despite the urge to look up to see his brother’s face; there was no way Nightmare had missed that from this proximity.

He was right, as Nightmare paused, his voice softening. “…you’re afraid to?”

It was a rhetorical question.

Nightmare seemed to know that too. “Okay,” he said, and Dream heard him stand up. “I’ll be right back.” With that, Dream heard him walk away, closing the door behind him.

Dream let his head fall back to his knees, trying to focus on distracting himself from the images now that he was alone. Nightmare had made them go away while he was here, and he said he would be back, so Dream had to keep them away himself until then.

He breathed in and—

~~****—down, down, down, down—** ** ~~

—Out.

He sighed.

This would be a challenge.

****~oOo~** **

_(—nobody…)_

****~oOo~** **

Eventually, however long later, the door opened again and Dream felt relief at the fact that his brother was back. Pushing the thoughts back by himself was tiring, though he still didn’t want to sleep. The images would be too vivid if he did. But that would be an issue for later.

Right now, he felt too tired to move his body, so he left his head on his knees. He heard faint whispers coming from the doorway and he faintly wondered what was being said. It was probably about him. All he seemed to do recently was worry people. He would have to work to fix that later. He made a note of that in his head.

The whispers ceased and he heard the door close. Footsteps sounded until his brother stopped in font of Dream again. He still didn’t raise his head. He didn’t feel like it. Luckily, Nightmare didn’t seem to care, as he crouched down beside him anyways.

“Dream,” He heard Nightmare say, “can I…place something on you?” It sounded like Nightmare didn’t know how to ask it. In other words, awkward and hesitant.

This tone confused Dream as much as the question did, but he couldn’t deny that it did intrigue him. Besides, he probably had a blanket or something. Dream moved his head enough so that Nightmare could see his nod, as he still didn’t know if he could speak; there was still a tightness in his throat.

“Okay.” Nightmare said, seeming to understand that Dream agreed to it. He heard him move, reaching over Dream and placing something—a blanket, so he was right—across his back. Then Dream heard him move to sit beside him. Nightmare was silent.

Dream blinked as he saw the blanket. It was yellow and fluffy (with blue stitches along the seems that looked suspiciously like Error’s strings), as he discovered as he absentmindedly rubbed a few of its fur or strand things between his fingers. It was also…heavy? A weighted blanket, Dream realized, recalling Blue talk about them before. He had said that lots of people with anxiety had them because it helped them calm down.

And it was helping him now, he found, as his shoulders relaxed even more. He found it in himself to finally raise his head and look over at Nightmare, who was looking back at him with a small smile on his face. When they locked eyes, Nightmare tilted his head.

Dream opened his mouth and struggled to get words out. Tears began to gather again and he fisted his hand in the blanket. “I’m sorry,” he eventually got out, his voice rough and watery, ready to break down into sobs.

Nightmare blinked back at him, frowning a bit. He reached toward Dream and hesitated a bit, eyes flickering over Dream’s face, before setting his hand on Dream’s arm, again looking back at Dream’s eyes when he only blinked in response to the touch, not flinching or pulling away. He smiled again, starting to run his hand up and down Dream’s arm gently and as light as possible.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Nightmare finally said, his voice full of finality, as if he won’t accept any arguments to the statement, “as none of this is your fault. You’re okay, or at least you will be.” His eyes hardened with determination. “I promise.”

The tears spilled over and down again, making Dream wish he wasn’t such a crybaby. He swallowed down a sob and leaned over towards Nightmare, resting hid head on his shoulder. He felt Nightmare pause for a moment, before he wrapped his arms around Dream in a loose hug, just enough to be there but not be suffocating.

They stayed like that for a while, Dream almost sobbing, but trying to keep the noises in while the tears streamed down, and Nightmare, rubbing his back in light touches and staying throughout it all, repeating that Dream was okay and safe.

Just the two of them, like way, way before.

Eventually, once Dream was calmed down enough and struggling to keep his eyes open and yawns in, Nightmare murmured quietly, “You should sleep.”

Dream tensed, fear rising yet again. “But—”

“If you have any nightmares,” Nightmare interrupted him, “I’ll chase them away. I’ll stay here with you, okay?” He hesitated. “…You’re not alone, Dream.”

Dream wanted to say something more, but he couldn’t find any words. Besides…he was quite tired…one sleep wouldn’t hurt, would it?

****~oOo~** **

_(Somebody came._

_A little boy, lost and afraid, Shadows and Bad Thoughts eating away at him, blinked, looking up as a light appeared, a light that made the Shadows and Bad Thoughts hiss and retreat, as it hurt and burned and was dangerous to them._

_The boy’s eyes widened at who he saw in the light._

_“You came,” he whispered, smiling brightly despite the tears and fear and hurt._

_His brother smiled and hugged him._

_“Everything will be okay now.” Nightmare said._

_“Everything will be okay now.” The boy repeated._

_Light overtook everything._

_Closer up to the surface, a door cracked.)_

****~oOo~** **

Dream woke up with a start, a tightness in his chest and tingles all over. He was crying again, he realized. His breathing sped up as he looked forward into the darkness of the room.

He couldn’t see what the room was like.

Where…?

His breath hitched.

“Shh,” Someone—Nightmare, his mind filled in for him, his brother, safety—said, starting to rub his back again, making him flinch even if he expected it as he remembered what had happened. “you’re okay, it’s alright, you’re alright. You’re safe. You’re with me, not him, never him.”

Dream breathed in and out shakily. He forced himself to rest his head on Nightmare’s shoulder again, even if the touch felt wrong and burned. Nightmare didn’t notice, so he didn’t stop, but he did start humming a song that Dream couldn’t place.

Dream closed his eyes.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to accept the help that Nightmare was offering him. He wanted to, on some level, he really, really wanted to. But he had spent so long thinking that his feelings didn’t matter, that he had to be the one offering the help, never asking for it. He had been taught by various people that he was supposed to be happy, only happy and never sad or scared. Which made it hard.

He wanted to believe Nightmare, too. He wanted to believe everything he said, especially the statement that it wasn’t Dream’s fault any of this is happening. Even if he didn’t do anything to stop it from happening. Even though he stayed when he usually left when Ink left him there alone. All the signs pointed to it indeed being his fault.

It was frustrating. Dream was scared, even though he knew he was safe, and hurt, even though there wasn’t anything to be hurt about now, just in the past. He was numb, any positive feelings he had felt disconnected and like they didn’t belong to him, even though he represented positivity. He felt helpless and vulnerable and weak. So, so weak.

It almost made him laugh at how weak he is.

Then…there was the door. The door that would decide whether he let people in or kept them out. Whether he got past this, got better, or stayed in the past and repeated the same self-destructive cycle over and over again. The door was always there, had been since before the apples and all of that, closed and strong.

Now…now it was cracked. He could feel it. It was cracked and splintered, close to crumbling away into nothing, leaving him defenceless. He doesn’t know when it cracked, exactly, but it did. It wouldn’t last long. He knew that. Soon, the door would fall and disappear, and the people on the other end would pour in, helping him even if he didn’t want them to.

And he had a choice. To let the door stay closed until it was gone, and the people forced their way in, or he could open it now, saving everyone the trouble of breaking it down piece by piece. Which one should he choose?

…Well, it was a rather obvious choice, wasn’t it?

Dream knows that he had rather…unhealthy ways of coping, unhealthy ways of thinking. He also knows that he needed help, even if everything in him screamed that he could handle it himself. He wanted to trust Nightmare and accept his help. If he wanted it, then it would be fine to accept it, right?

_No!_ Screamed his heart, scared about losing what they had been taught, _We can handle this! We don’t need to bother anyone, especially nor Brother!_

_Yes,_ Said his mind, accepting things that they knew were facts, _We need help, and we won’t be bothering people if they want to help. Brother wants to help us. We need him._

Dream exhaled, opening his eyes, newfound knowledge and calm within them.

He was ready.

He opened the door and stepped out.


	24. Nightmare || I'm Right...Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT INCLUDES SELF-HATRED AND LANGUAGE.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

The sound of the portal echoed in his ears. He stared at the last place his brother was, not moving, not blinking as he left. The clearing fell into an uneasy quiet, like it too shared his feelings of surprise and anger over what had just happened. He couldn’t even hear any wind. It was, if he was honest, unreal.

Nightmare stared. He stared and stared, although he had no clue why.

He stood there, chest heaving and yet not hearing his breathing; the static in his head too loud.

He should leave. He had no reason to remain here, so the logical thing to do would be to open up a portal, just like Dream did, and leave, forgetting this ever happened. His boys would distract him from thinking about this further with all their games and chaos they do when they aren’t battling. Soon, he would forget this ever happened, just like Dream would. Soon, they would be back to their regular fights, regular taunting and banter, regular pleas and arguments.

Soon…everything would go back to normal.

…

…

…

However…

_“You were everything to me…” Broken voice. Tears running down, never-ending. Desperate for an answer that Nightmare couldn’t give because—_

…something tells him that won’t happen.

His legs felt as though they were rooted to the ground or as if they hadn’t moved in hundreds of years, probably like Dream’s did after he broke free of that stone prison—he pushed that thought down into the depths of his mind. It wouldn’t help him now. He begged and strained to move them, to step away, turn away from the spot burning into his mind. It didn’t work. Nothing worked.

Which meant there was nothing keeping his thoughts from pouring out of the dam in his mind. Thoughts he had forced down for years, ever since he ate the first apple. Thoughts of regret, guilt, misery and grief and so much more. Thoughts he had hoped he would never think again.

However, the more he stayed, the more he stared, the larger the cracks grew. They grew and grew until the dam cracked and crumbled away, the stream pouring, flooding his mind.

_“EXCUSE ME?!” Angry. (Never angry) Hurt. (Not supposed to be) Disbelief. (Nightmare doesn’t understand) “Everything I DID, I DID FOR YOU! Everything I MADE, I MADE FOR YOU!”_

Nightmare twitched.

_“I DID NOTHING BUT ASK YOU OVER & OVER WHAT WAS WRONG!” Tears of anger and rage. (Not sadness or happiness, the two from before) Hurt voice. (Like he couldn’t understand what Nightmare was thinking) Broken, just…Broken (Nightmare can’t understand) “BUT YOU KEPT LYING TO ME AND NOW YOU SAY THIS?!”_

Liar, his mind whispers. Liar! What does he know about anything? He’s always been and forever will be a naïve, selfish, attention-seeking little goody two shoes. He’d done nothing but ignore us in favour of some strangers! He—

_“Do…do you think I don’t feel bad…?” (don’t, not your fault) Quiet. (Not supposed to be.) Wrong. (Wrong, wrong, wrong) Ache. (Don’t understand)_

Wrong, his heart shouts and aches in retaliation, buried deep beneath walls of stone. Wrong, wrong, wrong! He’s our brother. He always prioritized our feeling and needs over his own. Yes, he went and helped the village and left us alone, but we never told him a thing of what we went through; otherwise, you know he would’ve stayed and protected us! How would he know to stay behind when he viewed our abusers as friends?

_“Do you…do you think I never…cared…?” (no) Breaking. (Not supposed to) Aching. (Don’t, can’t, don’t, can’t) Wrong. (Wrongwrongwrong)_

His mind was silent.

_“Why…?” (don’t know, sorry)_

His heart continued to ache. Ache, ache and ache.

_“You were everything to me…” (i know, i’m sorry) Broken voice. (Bad) Tears, so many tears, anger gone from them, replaced by heartbreak. (Bad) Desperate (Bad) for an answer (Bad) that Nightmare (Bad) couldn’t give (Bad) because—_

It hurt.

It hurt so much. It stung and burned and ached, ached, ached.

His hand clenched into a fist, the physical pain not working to distract as it usually did.

His eyes narrowed.

Nightmare didn’t like being hurt, any kind of it.

_Because—_

But…maybe he deserved it…

Dream made some good, good points. He had loved Nightmare with every fibre of his being, very likely more than Nightmare loved him, and Nightmare knew that. He had always known that. Yet, what does he say? That Dream was never there for him? When he had patched up his wounds, played with him the whole day after to help him feel better, reminded him every day that he loved Nightmare, despite anything that might be happening?

Honestly, what was wrong with him?! Dream was right! He had never told him a fucking thing about the bullying and abusing because he didn’t want him to worry, because he knew that he would worry himself sick about Nightmare. And, judging by what he said (or shouted) earlier, it didn’t work; in fact, it probably made him worry more!

How could he ever think that Dream, who cared and loved for someone more than the power of the gods combined, never did anything for him, when it was the exact opposite in that he did everything for him?

_Because—_

“ ** **NO!**** ” Nightmare shouted, roared. Shadows grew and swallowed the blue of the sky. Negativity engulfed the forest he was in. His legs broke free from the spell they had been put under and he ran. He ran, ran and ran, trying to get away from his thoughts, from the truth—

Not truth—

Truth—

Not truth—

He ran. The trees flew by in a blur, birds flew away from the ruckus he was making and the animals all hide from him. Running, running, running…just like he’s been making Dream do, just like he did from the villagers all those years ago. Running, running, running. Always the prey, no matter how much he acts as a predator.

He stopped suddenly in another clearing. His chest heaved for breath. This one was filled with bushes and rocks and flowers and live things. Tings that, in any other time, would make feel relaxed and make him smile.

Not now.

Now, it filled him with uncontrollable rage.

Nightmare screamed. He screamed and shouted and roared. He let go of his powers, his magic and shadows gathered around him, making the world darker and darker. Negativity gathered inside and around him, coming from all over this world, along with a few in close proximity. He screamed and the world knelt before him in submission.

“ ** **I’m right, he’s wrong! He’s lying!**** ” He said, over and over, voice filled with power and magic that could make someone instantly panic, trying to burn the words into his brain. He tried to make them true when he knew they weren’t.

He attacked everything around him. He tore, kicked, punched, stabbed, stricked, anything. Anger filled him to the brim. Anger at the world, at the village, at his mother, at Dream, and at himself, always himself.

_“You were everything to me…” Desperate for an answer that Nightmare couldn’t give because—_

His brother's voice echoed in his head over and over again. It repeated what had been yelled to him earlier, the words that had started this mess. It brought with it echoes of the past; everything Dream had ever said to him, every compliment, argument, insult and declaration of love, overlapping over with each other into an intelligible bunch of sounds.

_Because—_

Then, all at once, he stopped and dropped to his knees, tentacles going limp against the ground. His chest heaved; his breath gone. His eyes stung and it took a few seconds for him to realize that tears were gathering. He looked down and brought his hands up in eyesight. They were shaking badly in an emotion he couldn’t identify.

It wasn’t fair, his mind and heart cried in unison. It wasn’t fair!

_—because he didn’t know one._

He didn’t understand.

The tears began to overflow.

He couldn’t understand.

The little pitter-pattering of rain started up, starting slow and quickly becoming a pour. He didn’t move, instead staying on his knees and staring at his hands. The shaking had escalated. The tears continued down his face, burning upon contact with his goop, slime or whatever you called it. The rain burned as well, but he could hardly feel it.

He stared at his hands, heart still aching despite everything.

It hurt.

Nightmare didn’t like being hurt.

Yet, he did nothing to stop it now.

Because he deserved it. He truly did.

“I’m right.” He whispered to himself. However, despite it being said with such conviction before, it was empty and hollow now. It was devoid of anything except for a faint desperation that it was true.

He squeezed his forearms to try and stop the shaking of his hands.

He slowly looked up to the gray sky, welcoming the burning of the rain on his face.

“I’m right,” He said again, a little louder, but now filled with unsureness. He clung to the hope that it was true, that he wasn’t hurting the dear brother he loved for no reason besides that he became what he had killed. He needed an answer even if he knew he wasn’t going to get one. “…right?”

It was silent.

No, the forest seemed to whisper to him.

Nightmare let out a sob, hanging his head.

He didn’t think so.


	25. Nightmare || Haunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH AND THE REPERCUSSIONS OF LOSING A LOVED ONE, IN OTHER WORDS, GRIEF.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

It was one of the days that Dream and Nightmare planned to relax and hang around with each other—and only each other—without fusing into Astral. Though, they weren’t opposed to it; accidents happened, after all. However, they made a deal that it was important to have these days of ‘normality’ so that they don’t forget how to be just one person. They might need that knowledge, one day.

Dream was pretty adamant of this…rule? That was the closest thing to a label they would get. He thinks that it’s healthy to remember that they do have a free will in this sort of thing. As if they would ever forget, but you know, better safe than sorry, which was starting to become Dream’s motto these days. So, one day a week—or about that, anyway (they were pretty lax about the date; after all, fusing was natural for them. They liked it. The date was just to help them keep a sort of routine in their lives, which was another thing Dream found important.).

Nightmare, on the other hand just went along with it. He didn’t care all that much, as Dream was happy and that was what really mattered, right?

The only real problem he had with it…was the villagers. You see, they had never…told them about Astral. For all they knew, Astral was just a skeleton who lived in the woods and came out to visit every now and then. There were quite a few rumours revolving around their origins, too. Some that Dream found creative (he would say that while forcing down a smile, as if it wasn’t appropriate to laugh at something like that) and Nightmare found amusing (they were pretty ridiculous and his laughter usually seemed to make it harder for Dream to keep his composure) But, overall, Astral was usually accepted with welcoming smiles and fond pats on the head.

…

To be honest, Nightmare was a bit jealous. Which was silly, he knew that, as he was a part of Astral and so he was also welcomed warmly while being them. But he just…couldn’t help it. For so long now, he craved, craved, to be accepted by the village. His efforts were all rejected, however, like they couldn’t even fathom the idea of him having emotions like a normal person and not being a cold-hearted demon. It made him angry. Made him want to…do things, things that Dream would hate.

**~~“But He Doesn’t Care, Now Does He?”~~ **

(In the back of his mind, he knew that, if the villagers ever found out, Astral would be treated differently. They would refer to them as only Dream, disregarding both what fusing means and that Nightmare was even there. The thought always hurt.

**~~“Selfish Idiots—”~~ **

However, he would bear it with a smile, like always.)

But he won’t tell Dream. He won’t; nothing would change his mind. Dream would be confused, not quite understanding but try his best to. His brother would ignore the villager's needs, his own needs (although he already did that), in favour of Nightmare’s. He would worry himself sick, which would make Nightmare worry and blame himself (he already did; Dream still worried now, and that was bad enough). It was a cycle Nightmare didn’t want to get trapped in.

So, he won’t tell Dream. He could handle it himself.

Everything would be fine.

**~~“Naïve Child…”~~ **

* * *

Nightmare hummed as he walked back towards the tree.

He had forgotten his favourite book back at home and, knowing how much he liked his reading, Dream had sent him back to get it. Nightmare had worried, asking if Dream would be fine by himself. Dream, in all of his optimistic self, had laughed and waved him off with the assurance that everything would be fine. Still a bit worried, he had shrugged off all of his doubts and left, trusting Dream.

(He does trust Dream. He really does. He knows the other can take care of himself and he knows the villagers won’t do anything to harm Dream, but he can’t help but worry. It was in his nature as a brother.)

For Nightmare’s part, everything had gone surprisingly smoothly. He encountered nobody on his journey, except for the stray animal that brushed up against him for pets and affection. It had been quiet in the house, in a good way. He found the book rather easily, once more shaking his head in fondness of his brother (he would’ve been fine for one day without the book, but Dream had insisted and he had recently gotten to a good part of it so it was too good to pass up).

Now, Nightmare flipped the book over in his hands, staring at the cover. It was made up of hues of brown, gold, red and everything in between the three. The brown and gold made up most of the cover, as it was an arch covered in twisting vines. In the arch, stood two silhouettes holding a rose between them. They were coloured red. His gaze travelled upwards, to the tile. It was printed in big black letters, all capitalized and elegant looking.

It was called—

“…e…now…ian?”

Nightmare’s head perked up. He blinked as he saw the tree. He was closer than he thought he was. He almost smiled.

Almost.

Because that was when he noticed the people surrounding said tree and, consequentially, his brother. His brother, who he could only see glimpses of the bright colouring of his clothing, who was surrounded and seemed to be trying to talk to the people holding him by all accounts captive.

Nightmare frowned.

His stomach twisted.

One of the men—by his position, most likely the one right in front of Dream and also the leader—was saying something. Nightmare could see his mouth moving, but he couldn’t hear what was being said. There was a pause and the man's lips twitched downwards; Dream must’ve said something back that he disagreed with.

Nightmare narrowed his eyes.

He had to get closer.

He had to hear what was being said.

(Because his gut twisted with worry and his heart was beating at a rapid pace and Dream was in the middle of all of this, he could get hurt, and gah, he was so stupid he should’ve never left—)

Quietly, he crept towards the tree, making sure that he stayed out of sight. As he came closer, he could make out words, though he had to strain to hear them.

“Again, I’m sorry,” Dream was saying, sounding nervous, which was a first for him, as he usually was always happy to talk to someone. “but I can’t let you have an apple. They’re not to give out like that. If that was the only reason for you coming here, then I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Nightmare narrowed his eyes as the group looked at each other. Now at a good enough distance, he took the chance to study them.

They weren’t from the village. It was rather obvious, as both because Dream was nervous as he talked to them, which he wouldn’t be if it was someone from the village, and because the group looked like they didn’t belong here. They didn’t have the clothes or things that everyone wore and they also had weapons. The people of the village didn’t carry weapons around with them. These guys did. Now, if they weren’t from the village, where were they from?

Nightmare paused and thought.

Come to think of it, this group looked an awful lot like…Bandits.

One day when Astral was walking around the village, they had overheard some of the talk about Bandits. The name was an overall loose term to call them, as they weren’t really Bandits, like from stories and such, but it was the closest thing they had to call them. The people of the village were worried because it sounded like these Bandits were here because they had heard about the tree. They were worried about what it meant for their precious Dream.

Astral had left soon after that, as they wanted to talk about this news.

However, if this group surrounding the tree were the Bandits they had been talking about, then what did they want? The obvious answer would be that they wanted an apple. They must’ve come here to get one and talked with Dream about it, but Dream had refused them gently, as they weren’t supposed to give out apples, only protect them. Or at least, they weren’t supposed to give them out willy nilly to anyone who just asked for one.

…For some reason, Nightmare didn’t think they’d just leave and forget this ever happened.

The thought filled him with dread and something cold.

Eventually, the leader of the group sighed and shrugged. “Oh well, it was worth a try!” He seemed to smile at Dream, who Nightmare got the impression was surprised at. Nightmare frowned as well. There was something odd in his voice. “Thanks for telling us though. We won’t bother you anymore.” He turned and started to walk away.

Nightmare could finally see Dream. He was right; his brother had been surprised. His golden eyes were wide and stared at the back of the leader as he left. Then they slid over and locked with Nightmare’s. They stared at each other, trying to have a conversation without words.

The leader stopped walking, as if remembering something he had forgotten, drawing the twin’s attention back to him. “Oh yeah,” He said, turning back around with a dark smile on his face. One that made Nightmare’s heart clench in worry. “I almost forgot the parting gift.”

It happened too fast.

Nightmare had taken a step forward, as something in him screamed that he had to protect Dream.

But it happened too fast.

Too fast for Nightmare to move.

Too fast for Dream to defend himself or even dodge.

Too fast for anyone to do anything to stop the leader from attacking with the knife.

It was as if the world slowed.

Nightmare’s eyes slowly widened, his book dropping to the ground as he started to run. His brother's name ripped itself from his throat, a desperate cry that was too late.

It was all too late.

He arrived at his brother’s side just as Dream stumbled back, a cut stretching across his chest. It bled gold. Nightmare grabbed Dream as both their legs gave out from under them. Panicking, Nightmare tried to heal Dream, but his magic flickered and died.

(He had never been good at healing, not like Dream was—)

But it was enough for him to learn something alarming:

The knife hadn’t just cut Dream’s chest…

It had cut his core almost clean in half. And nothing could heal a core.

Which meant…

Dream would…

Dream was going to…

Dream was…

Dream.

All at once, the world was back to normal. Sound slammed back into Nightmare’s ears, becoming a ringing that he tried desperately to ignore. He had to focus on his brother, who’s breathing was ragged and stuttering and he couldn’t do anything—

**~~“Pathetic.”~~ **

“Dream…” Nightmare said quietly, voice thick with tears, which had started to spill over and down his cheeks, blurring his vision. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t think there was anything he could do. His hands hovered around the wound.

The tightness in his chest grew until he could barely breathe.

His world had narrowed down so that only Dream and him remained. Nightmare felt so much that it all blurred together into a strong sense of guilt. For not being there in the first place, for agreeing to Dream’s stupid suggestion that he go get his stupid book, for not being fast enough in coming back. For so many things that, in the back of his mind, he knew he couldn’t have prevented, not really, but feeling too helpless to listen to the voice of reason.

He watched as Dream shakily smiled. “I…i-it’s okay, Brother…” Nightmare could barely hear Dream speak, too focused on the sudden pale glow coming from him. The pleading in Dream’s voice for the next words brought Nightmare’s attention back to him, his mind suddenly very clear and quiet. “P-please…don’t blame yourself…not your fault, okay?”

Nightmare’s breath hitched. “Dream—”

Dream didn’t dust. Neither of them did, or would. It was something they had known ever since they were brought into existence. As they weren’t human, they wouldn’t leave a body and as they weren’t monsters, they wouldn’t dust. Instead, they would just…fade, disappear into the void or wherever they go when they die. Despite knowing this, however, they had never worried about it.

After all, as long as they were together, nothing bad would ever happen, and that included dying, right?

Nightmare thought back to this as he watched Dream fade in front of his very eyes, too frozen to move. Realizing that Dream was disappearing forever made him start and reach out, a whisper of his brother’s name caught in his throat as his hands closed around particles of golden light that quickly disappeared. Dream’s crown and clothes dropped to the ground, his gaze following them. He knew that if he opened his hands that there would be nothing there, so he let them fall to his side as they opened.

His gaze narrowed on the clothes pile as a cold feeling spread throughout his body. Rage filled his heart, urging him to do something to the people who killed his brother. They killed Dream, who was only trying to protect the tree, who was only doing his job. They were idiots for not realizing it! They deserved pain. They deserved to die in turn.

Nightmare stood up slowly and stumbled a bit, the draining of feeling so many things in such a short time catching up to him. He turned around and was faced with an empty hill.

They had left.

The fact made him laugh hysterically, something breaking in him. He laughed and laughed; he couldn’t help it! He found that he couldn’t stop. He reached a hand up to grasp his head, trying to ground himself as he continued laughing.

**“Cowards.”**

Yes, they were, weren’t they?

They killed someone so dear to him and left without facing consequences? That was the very definition of cowardice!

Though…maybe Dream wasn’t dead.

Maybe…maybe…maybe he was just playing Hide ‘n Seek!

It was Dream’s favourite game, after all. They played it almost every day. So, Dream had probably decided to start a spontaneous game of it. He even got some of the villagers to help him hide, how clever. Yes, clever and very dirty.

Nightmare giggled once more before relaxing. “Okay, Dream. I admit, you got me good for a second there. I really believed you were dead!” A giggle burst through his mouth again and he desperately tried to smother it. “But enough’s enough. It wasn’t funny. It was the opposite. Now please come out and apologize!” He crossed his arms and waited.

Nothing happened.

He blinked, confused. Dream had never refused him before. He had always listened when Nightmare was this stern with him. His arms uncrossed and he cupped his hands around his mouth as he called out. “Dream?” No one answered back and his confusion grew. “Dream, please come out! I’m not mad, just…” He struggled with his words for a minute. He sighed. “Okay, I’m a little angry, but I forgive you. Now please come out!”

He waited again expectantly.

Nothing.

Nightmare frowned, anger returning to the front of his mind. “Okay, fine!” He snapped out, turning sharply back to the tree. “I’ll wait until you come to your senses and return!” He stomped back to the base of the tree where he stopped and stared at the clothes still on the ground. He reached down and grabbed the crown, ignoring the way his hands shook and his stomach sank.

Maybe he was…

He refused to believe it. “Dream, please…It’s really not funny anymore…” He whispered to the crown as he tightened his grip until it hurt. He listened once more, growing heavy with the growing realization.

No one answered him. No one came up to him and tackled him in a hug. No one whispered their apologies as they started crying as they realized what they did. No one was there for Nightmare to smile at and comfort and hug and make them promise to never do that again.

And if no one was coming to do those things, then that meant…

“Please…” Nightmare whispered once more, voice cracking on tears. He fell to his knees and screamed. He screamed over and over again until he couldn’t anymore. Until his throat ached and his mouth was dry. He clutched the crown tight to his chest, thankful that there was at least one thing left of his brother.

…that Dream was really dead.

* * *

The next few days passed in a blur. Nightmare had taken the clothes, cape (which had made him sob heavily once more as he grabbed it) and crown back to their house. Entering the house had been another struggle as everything in there reminded him of Dream. He had to stop himself from breaking down and crying at the sight of their couch and so many other little things until he made it to their bedroom, the one they shared.

Then came another struggle entirely. Once he had gathered enough courage to open the door, he had immediately started crying. Since they shared the room, there were so many things in here that reminded Nightmare of Dream. He had thrown the stuff onto Dream’s bed and ran out of the house, all the way back to the tree where he remained for the days following.

He avoided going back to the house, at least for now. He knew he would have to face it eventually but he just…it was too soon to go there now. So, he remained at the tree, never sleeping except for the occasional hour of which he had a nightmare of Dream dying all over again and spending the time locked in his head, face blank on the outside.

* * *

It was one week from the incident that the villagers had realized what had happened.

Nightmare looked up slowly as footsteps stomped heavily towards him. Recognizing his usual bullies, two monsters and a human, were coming up to him with a murderous look on their faces, he tried to stand to greet them.

They arrived before he could and the human, their leader, grabbed his collar and punched him, pushing him to the ground. Nightmare held himself up with his elbows, looking up at them with a weak and confused expression. The leader panted and retracted his arm. He glared at Nightmare.

“You murderer!” He screamed, making Nightmare flinch as a bit of spit landed on his face, though he made no move to wipe it away. “How could you kill him?! WHY?!”

Nightmare’s eyes widened as he realized what the other was talking about. He gulped and started to whisper, “I didn’t…”

One of the monsters shook their head, looking down on him with disappointment. They didn’t seem to have heard him. “Your own brother…you killed your own brother! I can’t even imagine how he had to have felt…” They shook their head again.

That hurt. Nightmare whimpered a little, the words striking true. They were right. Dream had to have felt the same way as he was dying. The pain in his brother’s eyes brought another fresh wave of tears to him in the present. Dream must’ve blamed him, at least a little. His words about not blaming himself came back to Nightmare again too and he realized that Dream must’ve been just trying to make him feel better.

After all, it was Nightmare’s fault he was dead.

The other monster spoke up, whispering, “You really are a demon…”

Nightmare hung his head, not opposing the words. He really was.

* * *

Nightmare yawned as he stared at the words on the page. He hadn’t slept in…what was it now, three days? Though that may not seem like much, he had only slept a handful of hours the nights before, some days even getting zero hours. Now he was just too tired to keep his focus on anything.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sleep, either. He did. But he was also scared to. He kept seeing Dream dying over and over again, then hearing his voice say things like it was his fault Dream died, he killed him, things like that. Nightmare knew, on some level, that Dream wouldn’t want him to blame himself—hell, his last words were that it wasn’t his fault—but…no matter how he looks at it, all he can see is that the blame rests on him for not being there quick enough.

The villagers agreed that it was his fault, too. They often yelled things at him as they passed by the tree, sometimes coming up and hitting and kicking him. They mostly kept their distance, however, for which Nightmare was grateful for. He didn’t have the energy to deal with them.

There was also…Astral. Just the name made his eyes tear up again. With Dream...dead…he couldn’t become Astral again. He wouldn’t be able to ever again. It hurt. When they were Astral, their minds were entwined, as if becoming one singular one. Each time they fused, they grew closer, becoming more dependent on the other. It’s not…entirely healthy, they knew that, which was why they had the days where they tried not to fuse. It was important to remember that they could take care of themselves on their own if need be.

And now…Nightmare would need to take care of himself forever now. Alone.

…

It hurt.

He didn’t know what else to say but that it hurt.

This was another reason why he wanted to sleep so badly. If he goes too long without it, his mind gets muddled and there’s no filter for the thoughts that come. Meaning most of them end up being about Dream, about his guilt, about the villagers, about Astral, about so many things that he wants to not talk about.

…God, he was so pa—

A sudden sound—like…a book being slammed—next to his ear made Nightmare jolt, his eyes snapping open. He blinked hard as his heart raced, reaching up to rub at his eyes. Confusion filled him as he blinked again. What just…

Light giggles filled the air now and Nightmare forgot how to breathe.

That sounded like…

But it couldn’t be…

But…

“You should’ve seen your face, Night! It was so funny!” A voice—Dream’s voice—said next to him, his giggles turning to laughs.

Nightmare was shaking. He must be dreaming, must’ve dozed off by the tree, because Dream was dead. He knew it. He saw it happen. Yes, he might’ve tried to deny it in the beginning but there was no way he was denying it now.

But still…

Even if this was a dream…at least he gets to see his brother again, right? Even if it was just a figment of my imagination.

A finger poked his cheek, bringing Nightmare out of his thoughts. “Night? You okay? I didn’t scare you too bad, did I?” The concern in his imaginary brother’s voice made Nightmare’s mouth twitch. No matter what he was, Dream was too good for this world.

“Nightmare?”

Nightmare shook his head and smiled, turning to his brother. God…he looked the exact same he did when he died! Forcing down a sob, he swallowed. “I’m fine, D-Dream. Sorry for worrying you.” He laughed awkwardly in between his words.

Dream stared at him. That was another thing about his brother. People though Dream was too oblivious to notice anything outside of himself, but that wasn’t the case. Dream noticed lots of things. He just…kept it to himself. Nightmare smiled again as he remembered all this.

Dream grinned, cyan eyes twinkling, drawing Nightmare’s attention again. “Well, okay! As long as you’re alright.” Giggling to himself, Dream sat down beside Nightmare, leaning against him as he started to weave his flowers together.

Nightmare watched him for a minute, a fond smile in place.

He had missed this.

God, how he had missed this.

It felt like forever since he saw Dream last. He wasn’t even sure how long it had been exactly as the days all sort of blurred together in his remaining shock and grief. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, actually. Pretending everything was fine seemed very appealing to him, as he drank in the sight of his brother next to him as he should be, relished in the warmth and weight of the body pressing against his…

…

But something itched in the back of his mind, a strange sensation that something was wrong.

Nightmare paused and furrowed his brow, thinking this over.

…

…

Did…

Well, it could be a trick of the light…but…

Did…did Dream have…cyan eyes? Now, in his made-up fantasy? Why would he make Dream have cyan eyes when he knew, remembered as one of the most painful things, as one of his most favourite things about his brother, that Dream had…golden…eyes…

Nightmare froze.

A slow, terrifying chill moved through him.

“Hey, Nightmare?” The Dream beside him asked, all movement stopping, voice almost…dead…hollow. “Why did you let them go?”

Nightmare blinked, still coming to terms with what he had realized.

‘Dream’ tilted his head back to meet his eyes, cyan staring holes in his soul. “The guys that killed be. Why did you let them leave? Why didn’t you go after them and…” he shrugged, “I dunno, kill them?”

It was said with such casualness, such innocence, such child-like curiosity that it, while squeezing his chest in pain as he hadn’t heard that voice from Dream in years, confirmed his suspicions.

After all, Dream wouldn’t wish death on anyone, whether they killed him or not.

It didn’t matter if it was his mind or not.

This wasn’t Dream.

Anger surged through him and Nightmare shot to his feet, making as much distance as he could between him and the…the imposter, who had fallen with a yelp at his sudden movements. He turned and glared, with as much hate as he could. It was difficult with the thing still looking like Dream. “You aren’t him.”

Fake Dream blinked, looking confused. “What are you talk—”

“You aren’t him,” Nightmare repeated, staying firm, “so don’t try to pretend you are. Dream’s eyes aren’t cyan. They’re golden. So golden that the sun can’t compete with them, gold itself can’t compete with them.”

He took a shaky breath. “You aren’t him. You aren’t Dream.”

Fake Dream had reached a hand up when Nightmare pointed out the eyes. He frowned. “They’re cyan? Damn, I thought I fixed that problem.”

“You aren’t Dream.” Nightmare repeated again, as if the imposter was denying it still.

The imposter shrugged, standing up. Nightmare took two more steps back. “No, I’m not. I wondered if you would catch on, when you would, so I’m not gonna deny it. But,” He grinned, black…stuff dripping from his mouth. “do you want to see who I really am?”

Without waiting for an answer, Fake Dream stepped back and disappeared.

Nightmare blinked and everything was different. The sky was a deep red, black clouds covering it, the sun was gone. The grass, trees, everything was dead. Brown. It crackled under his feet as he turned in a slow circle. The village was in ruins, some parts of it still on fire. He covered his mouth as he spied a few bodies in the rubble.

And…the tree. His tree.

It was cut in half, jagged edges poking out of the ground. There were a bunch of flakes of bark resting on the ground, what must’ve been the remains of the top half of the tree. The remaining stump was dead, but it wasn’t the faded gray colour most trees would be when they were dead. It was black.

It was horrifying.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Dream’s voice whispered in his ear and Nightmare spun around.

The imposter had changed. He still resembled Dream, still wore his clothing, still bore his looks, but he was covered in black…sludge? Goop? Whatever it was, stuff. His cyan eyes were glowing now and he was still grinning, though it had switched from cheerful to eerie. He was also…floating.

Nightmare was shaking, he faintly noted. Breathing in slowly, he tried to calm himself. _It was just a dream._ “Where are we?”

The imposter’s grin widened. “Why, our home of course! Well, what it would look like in the future. I don’t know if it still looks like this. Dream’s death did really change things.” He laughed, spreading his arms out wide. “Heck, we weren’t supposed to meet until after you ate the first apple!”

Nightmare shivered, his horror growing at every word uttered. “What.”

The imposter nodded like it was the best thing in the world. “Yeah! You were supposed to eat the apple—” He paused and backtracked. “Well, you were supposed to pick it first, in an effort to prove you were as good as your brother. I was supposed to convince you to eat it and then we would become one person bent on drowning the world in negativity!”

“That’s…” Nightmare swallowed, shaking his head. He grew dizzy.

“Fun, right? And then—”

Nightmare shook his head again, getting his bearings again. “Don’t. Just…don’t. I wouldn’t do that. I won’t do that. Not ever.”

The imposter stared at him, all his happiness gone. “You would. You’ve thought about it before, I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t! And you still might.” He tilted his head. “Dream’s dead. Whatever relief he would give you from the beating and harsh words is gone. The villagers will come back and they will be worse. You’ll get tired. You’ll give up.”

“I won’t.” Nightmare growled, fists clenched by his side.

The imposter’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll see.”

Nightmare growled again and moved to explain just why he wouldn’t do all those terrible things, but a wave of drowsiness washed over him. He stumbled, his legs suddenly straining to keep his weight. His eyes felt heavy.

The imposter blinked and his cheerfulness returned. “Oh, we’re out of time. See you again soon! And call me Corruption! ‘The imposter’ was getting repetitive.”

Nightmare didn’t hear any more as his legs gave out and he fell backwards into a sea of black.

* * *

Nightmare woke up with a gasp. Panting, he looked around quickly. Still under the tree, though the sun was setting now. Still by the village. The world was still alive. He was awake. Gripping his chest, he tried to calm his breathing.

He was awake.

_Or was he_ , he thought, tensing as Corruption’s laughter ~~(still resembling Dream’s, the bastard)~~ filled his head.

**“We’re going to have lots and lots of fun, brother!”**

Nightmare shivered, burying his head in his hands.

Its voice still sounded like Dream.

Nightmare let out a loose sob, digging his fingertips in his head.

Dream was dead—he still struggled to say this, unwilling to accept it—but Dream was dead.

Dream was dead and he was left with someone imposter, some ghost, demon, thing, whatever that wanted and was trying to taint his memory.


	26. Momma CQ Error & Geno & Fresh || (Part One) One Day, You'll Be Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS HEAVY TALK ABOUT SUICIDE, SUICIDE ATTEMPT, SUICIDE IDEATION, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, DEPRESSIVE THOUGHTS, SELF-WORTH ISSUES, SELF-HATRED AND OTHERS THINGS SIMILAR
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS STRONGLY ADVISED

Error had a plan: in a week’s time, he would lock himself in his apartment, summon some strings, tie those strings around his neck, stand on a chair, jump, and he would kill himself.

Now, while this may come off as surprising and concerning, Error had actually been thinking about it a lot this past year. When the thought first popped into his head, yes, he was scared, who wouldn’t be? But as time went on and the days became more blurred, the thought came up more and more. He slowly grew used to it, eventually entertaining the possibilities of how he could die, what that would mean, how people would react…things like that.

(Often, he would pass by a bride and his body would tingle with the thought of jumping off, ending quickly.

Often, when he had to use scissors, a box cutter, or anything sharp, really, his arms would tingle with the thought of being sliced, ending slowly, with time to wallow in his thoughts.

Often, he would stare at the one ceiling fan in his home and his neck would tingle with the thought of hanging there, his neck either snapping or him slowly suffocating, vision darkening, perhaps the nicest of them all.

Often, when he thought of death, his body would tingle with what it might feel like.)

However, he managed to hang onto life by remembering his brothers, his mom, Uncle Asy and Ink. He would repeat to himself that they would be heartbroken, sad, guilty and so many other things if he went through with his thoughts, if he indulged them. But as the days blurred and the thoughts grew, his excuses turned dim, hesitant…questioning.

Would they care, really?

Would they be sad, actually?

Or would they be angry at him? Angry that he took the easy way out?

Would they be disappointed?

…was it really worth it to stick around?

Error, honestly, didn’t think so. He wouldn’t even be here to see the side effects of his decision, if he succeeded. However, if he tried and he failed, then they would surely be said disappointed and angry. They would blame him for letting his feelings get the best of him. Especially Fresh, who had taken such a long time to understand emotions, to even feel them himself, who took extra care to make sure he didn’t feel too much of this, too much of that, too little of this, too little of that.

Fresh would be so, so disappointed in him. He might be confused at first, wondering why, exactly, his big brother, who was always so angry, think it was a good idea to off himself? Oh, yeah, he was an idiot. A big, selfish, messed up idiot. He would shake his head at Error and laugh to himself, wondering how someone could that pathetic.

…maybe he was projecting, just a tiny bit…

Geno and Mom, on the other hand, would take it a bit harsher. Maybe there would be a few tears shed between them as they wondered why as well. Why, oh why, did he go and take the easy way out? Why must he be so cruel? But after the tears were shed, they would be angry, surely. They would think, how dare he do this to us? Make use wallow in misery, just as he did? He should’ve handled it better. He should’ve been stronger.

…oh, look. He was projecting again.

Damn.

Error didn’t know his family anymore. He hasn’t spoken to them on over a year and when he tried to before, everyone would make excuses to go somewhere else, leave the room, like he made them uncomfortable. Sometime along the way since he was a child until now, he had fallen out of sync with them. Fallen out of orbit. Now, he was floating around, linked to nothing, watching everyone do so much better than him.

He felt nothing.

He felt like he could just…explode into nothingness and no one would care.

He could die…and no one would care.

He just had to last five more days.

* * *

_Five more days_

“Hey, Error! Wait up!” Ink called out and he stopped on his way to class, turning around. Ink reached him and folded, hands on his knees, panting.

Error waited.

Ink eventually straightened up and they continued walking, the artist rambling about things while the aspiring coder and video game maker made a few comments here and there. This was the only time Error really saw Ink, as the other had other friends who took priority over him, though because Ink had known him the longest, he kept coming back. Error didn’t understand why.

If you had something the longest, but had no more interest in it, you threw it out, correct? You didn’t use it anymore. You didn’t want it anymore, and while it had some fond memories, you just didn’t have room for it anymore. You throw things like that out. So, why did Ink keep coming back to him, to try and talk to Error, even if he never spoke back?

It didn’t make any sense.

Error sighed quietly; the sound drowned out by Ink’s continued talking. He looked over to the window, looking down, down…down. They were on a pretty high floor of their college and the ground looked so far away. He could faintly see dots that moved around and figured they must be people.

His body tingled and he stared, seeing nothing but him jumping out the window, falling, looking into the beautiful night sky above. Feeling peace at last as the ground rose, rose and rose to claim him. He landed with some kind of noise, neck and limbs broken, a smile on his face, dead eyes staring up, up, up…

Ink’s voice faded into his fantasy. “Error?”

Error blinked, his illusion cracking. His body still tingled slightly as he looked back to Ink, who stared at him with a furrowed brow, like he knew something was wrong but couldn’t explain it. Hah, welcome to his world, do not enjoy your stay.

Before Ink could continue, his other friends called for him from ahead. Ink brightened like he never did around Error and said a quick goodbye, running up to Dream and Blue. He was gone before Error could say anything back.

Error stared blankly around the hallway, which was now almost empty.

Just like how he felt.

Maybe a week was too much time, he mused, not feeling up to class anymore.

* * *

(From a few hallways away, Ink paused in the middle of his rambling, a feeling of concern rising all of a sudden. He thought back to Error, how he had stared out the window with a blank expression on his face. It had unnerved him, and still does.

He had the strangest feeling that that face meant something, and that something was concerning and wrong. But he just couldn’t place his finger on it.

“Ink?” Dream called, making Ink jolt and look to him with wide eyes. Dream looked concerned. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Ink blinked, trying to clear his head. “Nothing, nothing. I’m fine.”

Dream still looked concerned but didn’t press. Ink was grateful, like always, and they both looked to the front where the professor was finally starting the lesson. However, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something about Error was wrong and he needed Ink’s help.)

* * *

_Four more days_

“You’re quitting?” Nightmare asked, sounding surprised.

Error stared at him blankly, feeling nothing. Empty. He had been working in the bar for a couple of years now, what did it matter? They had enough employees. It was fine. They wouldn’t miss him. He wasn’t even good at the job, anyways. Nightmare was better at it then he was. It would be fine.

Nightmare sighed. “Well, alright then.” He looked Error up and down and furrowed his brow. “Just…take care of yourself, okay?” That was wired. It was like he was concerned about something he shouldn’t be. He should be glad he was going.

No matter.

Error turned and left; his goal accomplished.

It was fine.

Everything would be fine in four days.

* * *

(As the days passed, Ink felt more and more concerned. He hadn’t seen Error since their talk in the hallway and that made him sad. He liked Error and wanted to catch up with him, but life had been so busy. It didn’t help that Error seemed so…dead whenever they met. Like he had nothing left to live for…

Which made alarms sound in Ink’s mind. He grew more worried, wondering what it could mean, but not wanting it to be the truth. He didn’t want Error to die, so he hoped that Error didn’t either.)

* * *

_Two more days_

Error stared at his ceiling. He wouldn’t sleep tonight and he doubted he would have the energy to get up in the morning. Maybe he’d die in his sleep, pass on by peacefully, unaware. It was unlikely. He wished it would happen. Then, nobody could blame him.

He would be free.

Two more days. That’s it. He could handle it.

Then, he could soar.

* * *

(Ink’s worry became too much for him. The flags were waving and the alarms were sounding too much for him to deny things any longer. He got his phone and found a number quickly. He needed help. The phone rang twice before being answered.

“Wassup?”

“Fresh, I need you to come over. Now.”)

* * *

_One more day_

Error slammed the door to his apartment. Today had been terrible. He couldn’t describe it, it was just…there was this heaviness weighing him down, making him tired and confused. The hours blurred together and he had no sense of being present until now.

He was so tired. Not the tired you can fix by sleeping. This was a tiredness drawn deep in his bones, something he could never get rid of. It weighed him down, made him restless, heavy, sick. It made him want to curl up and stay like that for days on end, ignoring the world around him. It fueled his desire to die. He hated it, yet he couldn’t imagine himself without it. It was forever a contradiction.

A burst of panic made Error gasp and drop to the floor, head in his hands.

He didn’t understand why he was like this. He was supposed to be better now. In the days leading up to his death, he should be content and happy. He should be relishing in the fact that he was about to die. But he couldn’t. He just felt worse and worse and he didn’t know why. He’s lasted this long, so why was it still so hard?

His eyes stung.

Error realized he was crying for the first time in months.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t live like this. He couldn’t last another day, 24 hours like this. He just couldn’t. The date would have to change. It would have to be tonight. It had to be. It had to be.

He had to kill himself tonight.

It all set: he quit, avoided Ink and made sure everything was prepared for the date. There’s not a note because he has nothing to say, nothing they’d want to hear.

It was perfect.

It was the only way to stop his thoughts. The thoughts that swirled now.

_‘Selfish’_

_‘Worthless’_

_‘Idiot’_

_‘Coward’_

_‘Broken’_

And so many more.

Yes, in order to silence everything, to mane thing right again, to make things better, he would kill himself tonight.

* * *

(Fresh woke up in the middle of the night on Ink’s couch. They had talked and Fresh agreed to stay over. Now, he woke up with an itch in his mind, like something was wrong, something was happening that he needed to stop. Well…that could just be the lingering feelings from what Ink had told him.

_I think Error…wants to die._

Hearing that about your brother is a scary thing, in Fresh’s opinion. He couldn’t sleep because of it. He kept thinking the thought over and wondering…why? Why did Error want to die? He just wondered. Sometimes you didn’t need a reason to feel like that, you just needed to be tired. He had read that somewhere and wondered if that applied to Error.

He didn’t know.

Fresh stood up, giving into himself. If he was going to worry like this, it wouldn’t hurt to check on Error himself, see for it himself, right?)

* * *

**_~~One more day~~ _ **

_Zero more days_

This was it.

* * *

(“Broseph?” Fresh called out, knocking on the door.

Silence, not even any movement. That made him nervous.

He couldn’t help but think about what he might find if he went in.

Fresh looks to the doorknob, resting his hand on it. He hesitates. _What if…_

Worry and a need to know filled him and he pressed down.

_What if…_

The door opened. It was unlocked.

_What if…he’s too late?_ )

* * *

Error stared at his strings, his noose. They were still connected to his fingertips, but he had made sure they weren’t connected to his cheeks, eyes. His eyes were blank. He was standing on a chair. This was the moment he had been waiting for, imagining. It was happening.

He would finally die.

For so long…so long, he had wallowed in this hellhole. He had felt nothing for years, but acted like he was happy and content because he didn’t want anyone to worry, to make him talk. He wasn’t someone they should bother with. Geno was the sick one, they should worry about him. Fresh was the emotionless one, they should worry about him. Error? He was just the angry one, the screw-up, the middle, everything others wanted to throw away.

And on some level, he wanted to feel this way, like everyone didn’t care. If they didn’t care, then they wouldn’t bother talking to him, listening to him, calming him down. They lecture him, scold him, be angry with him, be disappointed in him. They would be happier. He needed that. If they cared, then that meant he was hurting them and he didn’t want them to hurt. He wanted them happy. He wanted them to live.

And in order for that to happen, he would need to die.

Error would die. The sound of that promise made his day. His body thrummed with excitement and he wanted to grin. He would get his wish. He…god, it was so sickening but at the same time amazing…

He would die, he wanted to die.

All he had to do, was put the strings around his neck and step.

This was it.

This was—

“…Error?”

…

…Fresh? What—

The door.

Unlocked.

The door was unlocked. Must’ve been.

He forgot to lock the door. He forgot…to lock…the door. Now Fresh was here and he…he couldn’t step off not, not with his younger brother in the room. That was wrong. This was wrong. Fresh shouldn’t be here. Fresh needed to leave. Now.

“What are you doing here?” Error’s words came out short. Clipped. Rushed.

_‘Don’t look at him. Don’t. Looking will make you feel things, or it might not, after all, we haven’t felt in a while…but don’t. You’ll see embarrassment, anger, confusion, everything you want to avoid.’_ His mind chided him. _‘You idiot, why’d you leave the door unlocked?! Pathetic, just pathetic.’_

Error heard Fresh shift and he stubbornly kept his eyes ahead of him. “…I don’t think that matters right now, bro.” Fresh’s voice was off. He wasn’t speaking like some 90’s reject. He sounded uncertain. Soft. It was wrong. “I think what matters, is what you’re planning to do with those strings of yours and that chair.”

Fresh’s voice was shaking.

He was scared.

_‘Look what you’ve done. Because you’re such a screw-up, you made your brother scared. We may have wanted that one in a lifetime ago, we don’t anymore. Yet, what do you do? You make him scared. Huzzah for you! Here’s another mistake to add to your dazzling collection, idiot.’_

Error forced himself to take a breath and ignore that. “You should leave.”

“I’m not going to, Error.” Fresh was even quieter, almost a whisper now. “We need to talk.”

Need. Not want or should. Need.

No, no, no.

Error didn’t want to. He couldn’t. He couldn’t.

“No.”

“Yes!” Fresh was out of his element here, Error knew that. “Error—just…please, step off the chair.”

He was pleading now.

Fresh didn’t want him to die.

He was getting in the way.

_‘Idiot’_

He was disappointed—no, angry—no. Error didn’t know anymore.

Fresh didn’t want him to die and Error couldn’t understand why.

He didn’t understand.

_‘Pathetic’_

“Error, please.”

Error couldn’t understand.

Fresh shouldn’t be here.

Why was he still here?

He should be gone, Error should be dead and everything would be good. It would be fine.

Why was he still here?!

Error didn’t understand.

“Error…?”

He didn’t—

Couldn’t—

_‘Worthless’_

Dead—

Alive—

_‘Broken’_

“Error, can you hear me? You need to breathe. Error. You need to breathe.”

Error felt the ground beneath his feet. He was off the chair. How? When? Why? He shouldn’t be alive right now. He should be dead. He had to be dead. Then everyone would move one and be happy together and leave to rot as he deserves. He didn’t understand why he was still here, why he was still alive.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It didn’t make sense.

Error felt trapped. Fresh was here, he shouldn’t be, and Error was alive, he shouldn’t be. He had to die. It was the only thought that made sense. What good was he if he was alive? He wasn’t useful here. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be here!

Everyone was moving on, everyone was getting better, so why couldn’t he?

_‘Die, DiE, DIE’_

“Error…breathe…you…focus…or…?”

Fresh was here. Fresh was talking.

Error couldn’t hear him. The ground felt uneven, the walls felt to close, he couldn’t breathe and he should be dead. He should be dead. He wanted to be dead. There wasn’t enough air in the room. Error couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t he breathe?

The room spun and grew blurry. There still wasn’t any air. Error felt heavy and he fell forward. Why? Error fell and blackness consumed him.


	27. Dream & Nightmare || Be Proud of the Small Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS TALK OF SELF-HARM, SELF-DEPRECATION, SELF-HATRED, DEPRESSION.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Today was a rather…important day for Nightmare. It wasn’t important because it was a holiday or anniversary or any of those types of things. Rather, it was important because it held a certain memory that both his brother, Dream, and he would never forget.

Nightmare thought about it as soon as he woke up. He laid in bed for a minute, ignoring his alarm, just thinking and remembering that memory. When he decided to get up, he still thought about it, it just moved onto the back burner of his mind. There, but not intruding. He moved out of his room and down the stairs, following the smell of breakfast.

When he entered the kitchen, Dream greeted him. His brother was holding a spatula and was in the middle of flipping some eggs over. His eyes were a bit dim, as he also knew the significance of the day. It always held a bit more impact for Dream than it did Nightmare. By habit, his eyes went down and he was surprised to see bare arms. Luckily, all the marks were still old, but Dream had always covered them up on this day and Nightmare never told him not to. The change made him wonder.

The weight of the day hung between them as they sat and ate in silence, both wanting to talk but not wanting to make the first move. It was still a delicate subject.

Today marked three years since Dream has last cut.

It seemed silly to make such a big deal out of that. Three years seemed like enough time to just forget about what happened, put everything behind them and move on. And sometimes, that was what happened. Sometimes, that was what someone needed to do. Although, that was rare. Most of time, even making it a day would hold so much importance it could be overwhelming. And if a day was that that, three years seemed impossible or unreal. It would remain that way until the milestone actually came.

Nightmare had been so scared, back when he discovered Dream’s secret. The image he had of his brother fractured, becoming too jagged to ever fit back in place. They had lied on the floor around him as he thought to himself, what should he do now? He was in a new game; one he was a beginner at. He had no clue what the controls were yet. There was only one thing he was sure of and that was that he needed to convince Dream to stop.

And that wouldn’t be easy. He had read stuff about this topic before. He knew that the habit was addicting and he knew that it was hard to stop. He had read it, but he had never thought he would need to heed it before. But he didn’t want to make the wrong move. Not now. Not ever. And there was another tricky part.

Dream didn’t know that Nightmare knew about his habit.

Nightmare hadn’t discovered him in the act. Dream had never told him. There had been nothing to give away what was hiding behind the long sleeves. All Nightmare had to go off, was some bloody bandages that made a daily appearance in the bathroom trash. And that little thing was just enough evidence. There weren’t many reasons they would be there, after all.

The reason this whole thing was tricky, was that Nightmare now had an obstacle between him and getting Dream to stop cutting.

And that was that he had to confront Dream.

* * *

He remembered it clearly.

He had spent the whole night pacing his room, ruling out so many words and scenarios that he could use. None of then sit right with him. Either it was too bland, too fake, too hesitant, too scolding, too anything wrong. It left him even more anxious than when he had started. He had no clue how to do this. He was an idiot for ever thinking he could. Maybe if he just ignored it, Dream would handle things on his own. He knew that he was wrong before he could finish the thought.

However, there was something good in this mess. Dream and Nightmare would be home alone today. Their parents had gone to a business meeting across the country and wouldn’t be back for a couple of days. That gave Nightmare time. Time to talk to Dream, time to think everything through, time to research some ways to stop someone from hurting themselves.

It didn’t help him from being nervous. He stood outside of Dream’s door, hyping himself up to knock. It didn’t work and he continued staring. This wasn’t easy. It wouldn’t be easy to go up to someone’s door and confront them about their unhealthy ways of hurting themselves and convince them to stop, or at least try to. Nightmare swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment and knocked before he could convince himself to walk away and try again later.

His eyes opened just as the door in front of him did. Dream blinked back at him, leaning against the door. His brother smiled. “What can I do for you, brother?”

If he didn’t know any better, he would say Dream was perfectly happy. But as he looked, he saw the slight tension in his shoulders, the way he had a sliver of white showing underneath his sweater, the light bags under his eyes. And above all, the slightly unfocused look in his eyes, like he was just doing something and was still working off the aftereffects of it.

Nightmare narrowed his eyes and started things before he could back out. “Can we talk?”

Dream tilted his head, confused. “Uh…sure.” He stepped back to make room for Nightmare to walk past him. “Come on in.”

Dream’s room was mostly yellow themed. A few stray items were thrown in, but it kept it's aesthetic overall. Pale yellow wallpaper, no designs on it, just a solid colour. Dark yellow bed, with stuffed animals on it and two pillows buried underneath them all. Dark brown hardwood floor with a yellow rug. Posters, paintings, books. It was a cute room. It fit his brother perfectly and he couldn’t imagine him harming himself in a place like this.

It made him sad to think about it.

Dream sat on his bed, right hand playing with his comforter. He always played with something when he was nervous. It made Nightmare feel batter that he wasn’t the only one feeling like this. He took the desk chair. They at in silence for a few seconds. Nightmare racked his brain for one of the ways to start this that he hadn’t ruled out but thought of none. They were all garbage.

“So,” Dream said, “what did you want to talk about?”

How to start things…did he start by saying that he knew? Or was that too direct? Should he be subtle about it, let Dream piece things together? Or should he leave, make up an excuse and let his brother come to him in time? No, that wouldn’t work. Dream wouldn’t come to him. He would try and deal with all of this on his own because he didn’t want to burden anyone with his problems.

For someone who self-harms, their loved ones finding out is one of their greatest fears. They know what they’re doing is wrong and that they should get help, but they don’t want to make anyone sad, like they are. They don’t think their problems should be shared, don’t think that it should be lifted. They caused it, so they need to fix it.

Nightmare hated that line of thinking. He wanted to help Dream. Dream was his brother. He loved him. So much, that he wanted to share his problems, help the other get through them and be stronger. He wanted that. He loved Dream, and so he would move mountains to make sure he was happy. He needed Dream to see that. He couldn’t ignore that his brother was hurting right in front of him and try and wait for Dream to come to him. He needs to make the first move.

So, he will. “Lately, I’ve been seeing these bloodied bandages in the trash in the bathroom.” Nightmare said, keeping his eyes on Dream, who stilled, eyes staring right past him. “They appear there almost every day. It’s a little concerning, to be honest. And I know that they’re not Mom or Dad’s, as they have their own bathroom.” He tilted his head. “We’re the only two who use that bathroom, and I know for a fact those bandages aren’t mine.”

Dream clenched a handful of the comforter. Nightmare paused a minute. He knew Dream didn’t want to hear this. He wanted to be anywhere but here. But he had to do this. He couldn’t let Dream continue to destroy himself.

His voice turned soft. “Which leaves you, Dream.”

“I’m fine.” Dream said coldly, his voice stiff and clipped. His shoulders were tense as well. “Everything’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.” Dream stood up suddenly. There was a fire in his eyes, not one of anger, but one of fear and panic. He was hurting and directing that hurt at himself, mostly. “Why do you even care? You haven’t cared for years. You can’t start now.” His hands were shaking slightly. “You can’t.”

Well, that stung.

It was something he deserved, however, so he let it happen. Let it wash over him, making sure to acknowledge it and let it go. Yes, he made so many mistakes. Yes, he shouldn’t have left Dream alone. But that was in the past now. He wanted to make up for that. He had to make up for being such a fool.

Dream needed to see that. He was hurting and Nightmare had to lessen that, make sure he knew that, despite everything, he never stopped caring about his brother. Never. And he wouldn’t ever stop, either.

Nightmare stood up slowly as well. “I care. I always have, Dream. I never stopped. I admit, it was wrong of me to ignore and avoid you. I’m sorry. I hope that, one day, you can forgive me. But this isn’t about me.” He took a step towards his brother, who scurried back. “You’re the one that’s hurting, Dream. I want to help you.” Dream shook his head. “Please, let me help you.”

Dream shook his head again, harder, and Nightmare could see the shine of tears on his eyes. It pulled at him, made him feel guilty for causing it, but he had to. He had to get through to him. His brother took a few more steps back. “No.” His voice was shaky now. “Get out. Get out of my room.”

Nightmare was silent. They both knew that if he left, Dream would be in a dangerous place, a place he should never be in. If he left, Dream might do something very bad. Just like how cornered animals were highly dangerous, a cornered person, who was very emotionally unstable, was easy to aggravate and push off the edge.

Nightmare also shook his head and took another step. “I don’t think I should do that, Dream.”

Dream tensed, scowling. The panic in him was over spilling. Nightmare had to wrap this up. Quickly. “Get. Out!”

His brother reached forward, as if to push Nightmare away and make a break for it, but he had other plans. He grabbed his brother’s arms (gently, of course), and pulled Dream forward into a hug. He felt Dream tense and struggle, but he kept his grip firm. He wouldn’t let the other break out of this, not until he said everything he meant to say.

“I’m sorry.” He felt Dream still for a second for increasing his struggling, desperate not to listen to him. “I’m really, really sorry. I should never have left you alone. It’s my fault you’re hurting.” Nightmare felt his own vision blur and his eyes become wet, but he blinked past everything. “You don’t have to forgive me. Just…let me help you. You’re the brightest thing in the world, and I don’t want you to burn out, ever. You deserve to shine.” He tightened his grip. “Please.”

Dream shifted, having given up escaping. “It’s not your fault.”

Nightmare closed his eyes, reigning himself back in. “Then whose is it?”

“Mine.”

“That’s not true, either.” Nightmare pulled back, now that he was sure Dream wasn’t going to force him away. His brothers stared back at him, tired and defeated. “It is most definitely and will never be your fault. Please don’t blame yourself.”

Dream smiled sadly. “It’s hard not to.”

Nightmare tipped his head. “I know.” He took a breath and prepared himself. “Will you let me help you?”

Dream looked away, struggling with himself. He twisted the end of his sweater around.

Nightmare waited. He had gotten what he wanted to say out. That was all he wanted. He was prepared to hear whether Dream would let him help or not. No matter what, he would respect it. Hopefully, even if he said no now, knowing Nightmare was there waiting would give Dream a little boost. If he needed him, he would be there and hopefully, that would be enough to ward off any bad things.

It would hurt him to stay waiting, but he would do it. He wanted Dream to be comfortable, after all. If he said no, he would wait and maybe help in the shadows, just…asking if the other was okay every now and then. That would be good.

Dream looked back at him and asked, “Can I think about it?”

It wasn’t a yes, not exactly. But it wasn’t a no, either.

Nightmare smiled. “Of course.”

* * *

Dream wouldn’t get back to him with an answer until a few days later. The whole time, Nightmare had waited, just like he said he would. He had kept his promise, even if it was mostly to himself. When Dream eventually approached him, the sleeves of his sweater rolled up, revealing the scars, all he did was smile.

His brother shifted on his feet. “Okay,” Dream said, barely above a whisper, “you can help.”

Nightmare nodded. “Thank you.”

He only got a small smile in return before Dream left, but that didn’t matter. Dream had trusted him. Dream was going to trust him. That was the best news he had heard in his life. It made his heart soar. He made another promise to himself that he wouldn’t rest until Dream was better. He would keep the fragile trust he had been given and, hopefully, given time, help it grow into something strong enough to withstand anything.

He would not let Dream down again.

He wouldn’t.

* * *

Back in the present, Nightmare, after setting his dishes in the sink, turned and watched Dream for a minute. His brother had gotten a call while they were eating and was now chatting animatedly, his plate still in front of him. He had a big smile on his face and his eyes were bright. He looked genuinely happy.

These past three years have been…full, for lack of a better word. There had been many ups and downs for both of the brothers. Dream had relapsed a few times, the first time being the roughest. He had been hysterical, apologizing over and over. It had been a while before Nightmare could calm him down, remind him that it was okay. Relapsing didn’t mean he failed. It was a natural part of overcoming it. It was okay.

Nightmare, on the other hand, had been so stressed one night that he had snapped and said some hurtful things. It had been his turn to apologize repeatedly. Dream had remained silent for a while and that only worsened his worries. He felt so bad, so angry at himself that he had broken his promise again. It had taken Dream’s soft and light hug to calm him down enough to listen to him. That he was forgiven, it was alright. He understood that he was trying and that was enough. Everything was still going to be alright, for both of them.

But somehow, together, they made it through. They had reached three years. It seemed like only yesterday Nightmare was worrying over how to approach Dream safely. It was insane to think about. But, remembering everything, looking at how happy Dream is now…

It made everything worth it.

Dream giggled once more and said his goodbyes, hanging up his phone. He fell silent, staring at his phone with a smile. While he was thinking, Nightmare moved and took his plate from him, placing it in the sink. He contemplated doing the dishes right away, but decided not to. There was time for that tomorrow.

He turned back to Dream. “So,” he said, drawing the word out to make Dream look up from his phone. “what part of that phone call has you so happy?”

His brother laughed, setting his phone down. There was a light blush on his face that already gave him his answer. “Cross called. He’s coming by later to, as he said exactly, ‘smother you in my undying love for the rest of the day.’” Dream shifted, smile still present. “You know him. He’s just being his usual sweet self.”

Nightmare did know Cross. At first, he had been a bit suspicious of the other. Dream had just gotten through a rough bit and all of a sudden there was a guy that seemed too nice, at least to him. To Dream, it seemed like love at first sight. Cross had spoiled him with so many gifts at the beginning of their relationship, as a way to show he truly meant that he was being true and real, not acting on Dream’s heart.

Dream had trusted him pretty fast. Nightmare did not. He hadn’t trusted him until, during one of Dream’s episodes where he was mostly stuck in his head, not responding to anyone in the physical world. He had been trying to get Dream to come back, but nothing he had tried had worked, even the ones that had worked for other episodes. It was a bit confusing. The Cross comes through the front door without knocking and, as soon as he addresses Dream, his brother blinks and seems brighter, like he had come back to earth.

Seeing that had made Nightmare pause and rethink things. Maybe Cross was being genuine. It had only been months since he had met Dream and already, he had such a bond with him. It seemed to be just as strong as the one with Nightmare himself, something he didn’t think would ever happen. It put him out a bit, to know Dream didn’t need only him anymore, but the proudness overtook the feeling easily. The fact that Dream was branching out meant that he was really getting better. He should be proud. He was proud.

He had strived to be more open to Cross. It worked and now it was like Cross had always been there. He helped so much, and he was so sweet to Dream to boost. Nightmare approved of him.

“That’s good.” Nightmare tilted his head, gazing going back Dream’s arms. There still wasn’t an explanation for that. He decided to be straightforward this time. He trusted his brother to be honest with him. “Is that why you’re wearing short sleeves today?”

Dream straightened, his hand automatically coming up and resting on his arms in an unconscious attempt to hide them. “No, actually. It’s not.” He shrugged one of his shoulders. “I just…wanted to try something new.” He looked over to Nightmare. “You get it?”

Nightmare tilted his head. It meant so much to him that Dream was trying this. Even if it was only for today (especially today of all days), it would still be progress. It made him smile. “Yeah, I do.” He started to say something he had taken to saying every time there was a bump or a step forward: “Be proud—”

“—of the small steps.” Dream joined him, as he knew this by heart now too. He rolled his eyes, but the smile didn’t leave his face. “I know.”

Nightmare laughed. “Just making sure.”

Because it was true. He said this so that Dream remembered it: be proud of the small steps. No matter how small they were or what they were, they mattered. If it was an hour clean, good. If it was getting out of bed, maybe just sitting up, good. If it was going outside, just to your car, then good.

It didn’t matter what the step was.

It always counted.


	28. Dream || Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS IMPLIED SUICIDAL THOUGHTS.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

When you think of the word alone, you think of solitude. Of being by yourself all the time, having no friends to talk to, no family to rely on, nothing. Of keeping to yourself all the time, never making ties with anyone. You think of someone who’s sad, angry, hurt, or just lonely. You think of someone who needs some company.

But sometimes, the word alone can mean something else. It can mean having a job or duty that doesn’t allow you to stay in one place, that keeps you moving. It can mean having friends, good and trustworthy friends, yet you know that you can’t stay with them for more than a couple of days at a time. It can mean that you miss similar times, times where you were happy and carefree and laughed every day with your dear brother. Before the villagers settled down, before they started to demand more and more, before the incident, just…before, when brother loved you and everything was alright.

Dream gets lost in those memories, sometimes. He knows he shouldn’t, that he can’t afford to waste time thinking about the past and what could’ve been, what he should’ve done. It was so easy, to stay in the past like that. It was too easy. It was a trap. The memories grabbed him, pulled him down with their happiness and laughter. They taunted him, blamed him over and over.

“It’s your fault!” They seemed to say, vivid images plaguing his mind when he was both asleep and wide awake. “You caused this. You weren’t there. He didn’t trust you. You made him like that. All you’re doing is running away from your problems. Coward!”

They used to cause tears, make him drown in misery. Misery that he had to wrap up and make disappear in seconds because he couldn’t afford to be tracked. Now, they just washed over him, sinking into his mind, anchoring itself in place and never shaking away no matter what. They were always there. Even when everything was calm, when there wasn’t a need for them, they were there.

He hated it. Hated it as much as he was able to. He wanted to be rid of them. He wanted to be able to sleep in peace, to just live in peace. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t be able to, not ever. And he hated that, as well.

Nightmare didn’t have this problem. Dream knew that. It was easy to tell. His brother didn’t wonder over and over about what might’ve been, what could’ve been and what should’ve been. He didn’t blame himself for something he should’ve seen coming, something he should’ve noticed, something he should’ve been strong enough to prevent. He didn’t worry about any of that. All he did was hate Dream, hunt him down, try to kill him. He was…happy, with the life he built, the one Dream interfered in.

Nightmare was happy and Dream, on some level, was too. He was always his happiest when his brother was happy. He always tried to put a smile on the other’s face when he was down, and it mostly worked, but in the days leading up to the incident, all his attempts failed. It had set off the first of the alarms that something was wrong. He didn’t get a chance to know just how wrong everything was until after; after he wasn’t stone anymore, when he met Nightmare again for the first time and they had their first fight of many.

“You never noticed a goddamn thing, Dream!” Nightmare had hissed, eye flashing a bright teal and his tentacles flailing wildly behind him. This was the first time Dream had ever seen his brother truly angry. “It was always ‘villagers this’ and ‘villagers that’ with you! You were so blinded, so used to having your ego stroked all the time, that you never cared to think about how they treated me!”

He hadn’t let Dream say anything before he continued. “They abused me. Every day, while you were off in your nice little fantasy land, I was getting beaten. I was being called a demon, a monster, that everything would be better if I was gone. And you. Never. Noticed. How can you say you want to make things right, help everyone, when you couldn’t see your own brother being hurt?

“I have spent the last few hundred years becoming something powerful. Something good. And of course, you always have to come along and ruin it!” Nightmare had laughed. It had been cold, cruel. Dream hated it. “You always do that. When I get something just for me, you have to come along and either take it or break it.” He had narrowed his eye, a manic grin stretching across his face. “I won’t let you. I’m going to kill you, once and for all, and finally be rid of you. Then, I can finally live in peace.”

The words had hurt. They had wormed their way into his heart and stayed there ever since, rooting in place. The guilt had started up then, at first just a little bit, then becoming a title wave of overpowering shame and hate for himself.

And yet, it wasn’t the words themselves that hurt Dream the most. Rather, it was what was between them. What was implied by his brother, whether the other realized it or not.

_“I’m better off without you, Dream.”_

…

Nightmare was better off without him and that stung hard.

And he was right.

For all his life, Dream has needed Nightmare. That never changed. His brother was his rock, the person he looked up to and did everything with. He relied on the other to be there when things were scary or wrong. And the time he strived to do the same. He strived to be the brother Nightmare needed, like he was for Dream. But when his abilities were put to the test, when Nightmare needed him the most, he failed.

That had hurt. He failed to keep his brother safe. He had time to think about it in his stone prison, even if he didn’t know or understand just how much time it was (it was a weird thing to describe in general—Dream was conscious, he knew that, but the passing of time didn’t quite register). He failed. So, he made a promise that he would do better, that he wouldn’t let Nightmare down again.

…

He didn’t keep it.

Now look where he was.

He had a brother that wanted to kill him, friends who needed him to protect the Multiverse, no home, rarely ever a steady amount of food and rarely a good night’s sleep. His life had gone from easy and minorly stressful, to frozen with only blackness as his vision, to spending every day running.

It was…tiresome.

God, all Dream wanted to do was stay in one place for all eternity, sleep for all eternity.

He wanted to give up.

But he couldn’t. He had to stay awake and alert. He had to protect billions of people. And he had to do it all while running for his life, protecting the only source of positive emotions, the thing that doubled as his soul. He could never take a break. He could never let someone else do it for him.

Most importantly, he had to do it all alone.

He was grateful for his friends, he really was. He liked them, too. They made him laugh and brought light times into his stressful life. It helped him keep sane. But that didn’t change the fact that someone was missing. That his brother was hunting him down instead of sitting beside him and laughing with him.

…

Nightmare was right.

He was better of without Dream.

…

But Dream couldn’t just…let go and continue on. Something held him back, a sense of uncertainty and panic whenever he thought of being alone. Something itched at him, a need to continue trying to bring Nightmare back, even if he knew that that would never happen.

And he didn’t know why. He thought it over constantly, but nothing about it made sense. He should be happy for his brother, but he wasn’t. Why? Why couldn’t he let him be happy? Was it something out of his control? Or was it just because Dream was so stupid and selfish that he wanted to keep Nightmare all to himself? Was that it?

Was Dream bad? Was there something wrong with him?

…

You know when someone explodes at you, or a thought comes up that shakes you down to your core, and you get this feeling of shock so you just stand there for a while, thinking about it over and over again?

That’s how Dream felt.

There was something wrong with him, he saw it now. But he couldn’t do anything about it until he knew what it was and how to solve it. He couldn’t go to his friends, either, or anyone else, as he couldn’t tell them about his problems because he was supposed to be the happy one, the perfect one. He couldn’t break that illusion. And he certainly couldn’t seek help from his brother, as he would die within second of trying.

…

Dream was alone.

He would always be alone.

…

But that’s alright.

That’s what he deserved.

…

It didn’t make it hurt any less.


	29. INTERMISSION: MISCELLANEOUS DRABBLES START

I'm sorry, but I interrupt your oneshot reading to bring you some drabbles! Short, but funny, these may be a thing that makes you smile. The good thing is, you can read lots without getting too bored.

These drabbles come from different prompts on Tumblr. Some sentence starters, some fic titles, other things. Of course, me being me, it turned into drabbles and recently began to turn into something between a oneshot and a drabble. Long, but not, and short, yet not. The perfect thing to get me to write when I'm not really in the mood.

This is all. I will speak with you again after the intermission!

P.S. - If you would like, give me a follow over on Tumblr at AnnaRaeBanana (annaraebananawriter)! You can come yell at me for my stories.


	30. No Hugs for the Sick || Dream & Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> zerocatssscollector asked: Imagine - 5 - nightmare- no! Go wash you hands! Then only thin can you get a hug dream. Dreams sick and wants a hug

In the seconds that Dream ran at him, grinning, with his arms outstretched, Nightmare remembered two things:

One was that Dream was sick. Has been sick for the past few days, but refused to actually rest and get better. Even Nightmare, the one the guardian would do anything for, struggled to get him, not only in bed, but stay there without him running off to help people. It was infuriating.

The second thing was that Dream was sick and was about to spread his germs to Nightmare.

Quickly, he sidestepped just as Dream went to grab him, only getting air. It took a few seconds for the other to realize what just happened. He looked over to Nightmare, locked eyes and started to pout, arms reaching out again.

“No.” Nightmare stopped him, holding up a hand. He pointed back to the house. “Wash your hands.” Dream’s pout intensified. He started to say something. “Let me finish. _Wash your hands…then you can get your hug_.”

Dream paused and thought.

Nightmare waited.

Dream thought some more.

Nightmare waited some more.

Then, with a pained look on his face, Dream nodded. “Okay, fine.” He walked slowly back to the house, like a prisoner going back to the prison they tried to bust out of, but got caught. 

Nightmare laughed and followed. Hopefully this time he could convince Dream to stay in bed for 30 minutes this time.


	31. Not Even the Creators || ErrorInk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dragon-tamer-1 asked: Here's a prompt: 26 "I love you, but you need to shut up." Maybe Error x Ink? Or whoever you want.

‘Oh, how the mighty fall…why are bothering with Ink? You know he doesn’t really love you, he doesn’t have a soul! He can’t feel emotions! And love, my dear Error, is an emotion.’

‘You’re distracting him, making him waste time on someone who’s supposed to be his enemy.’

‘Shouldn’t you be working? Destroy your next AU? Kill some more innocent lives?’

‘Killer.’

Murderer.’

‘Pathetic glitch who can’t stand up for himself in front of voices, beings that don’t exist.’

‘Pathetic.’

And so it went on. Error winced as all the voices banged in his skull, leaving a pounding behind that made it difficult to focus on his latest doll. He had wanted to get it done today, but it was already five and he was only a third of the way through.

_“I love you, but you need to shut up.”_

Error started, looking over to Ink. Ink hadn’t looked up from his sketchpad, but after a while of being stared at, he glanced up. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Ink blinked, then grinned. “Oh, sweetie–” (Error did not blush at the pet name. He didn’t!) “–I wasn’t talking to you.” At the confused look he got in response, Ink continued. “I was talking to the creators.”

Error blinked. Slowly. “But you can’t hear them.”

“Nope!”

“And you like them.”

“That’s why I said I love you!” Ink paused. “Platonically, of course.” He smirked. “Your glitchy face is the only one I want to make out with.”

Error struggled to hide his blush this time, his cheeks turning a bright gradient of blue and yellow. He coughed, trying to regain composure. “Then why–”

Ink’s eyes turned soft and he scooted closer. He placed a hand on Error’s cheek and looked his eyes over thoughtfully. “You got that look in your eyes, the one you get when they say bad things about you.” He shook his head. “No one can say bad things about you, not in my presence, not even the creators.” With that, he kissed Error gently and lovingly.

After a few seconds, he pulled back and giggled softly as Error grabbed a pillow and tried to hide his blushing face. Stars, the destroyer was so cute…and most importantly, he was Ink’s. As long as he was Ink’s, no one was going to hurt him, with words or fists.

Not even the creators.


	32. Why Is There So Much F**king Grass?! || Cross

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cherry109 asked: Are you doing the made-up-fic-title thing? If so, then I offer my suggestion: Why Is There So Much F**king Grass?!

Cross panted as he cut down another patch of grass. He had been in the middle of a fight with Ink when the stupid artist had sent him into a random AU. Not only that, but the whole world seemed to be covered in grass! He had been walking around in circles and all there was was grass.

And he realized that he could just teleport out of here, but he was too curious as to why there was so much grass in this damned AU.

He groaned, ignoring the urge to just scream. “Grass, of all things, why did it have to be grass?” He threw his hands up. “Like, it’s such a boring, mundane thing, so why is the entire place covered in it.”

Chara sighed from where he floated beside him. He moved to be in front of Cross. “I don’t know, nor do I care. Just teleport us out of here. Honestly…” He trailed off, something behind his partner catching his eye. 

“But I want to know why!” Cross exclaimed, making a ton of hand gestures. “It just doesn’t make any fuc–” He froze in place as a whoosh of hot air went across his head. Goosebumps brook out as a low moo filled the air literally right behind his ear.

Nope. Nope to the nope, nopeity nope, president of nope town.

A snort of laughter escaped Chara. “Hey, uh…I think you have a new friend.”

“This isn’t funny! And the beast behind me if no friend of mine, nor will they ever be.” Cross snarled, shuddering as another moo and freezing again, heart almost stopping as something licked the back of his head, covering him in slobber.

“So,” Chara said, turning to grin at him from upside down. “we going home yet?”

“Yes. Yes, we are.” Cross replied, teleporting just as the cow went to give him another lick. The animal blinked slowly and let out a saddened moo, lonely again as his new funny looking brother disappeared. It snorted and shook the feeling off, forgetting about it and wandering off back into the tall blades of grass.

Back at the castle, Cross appeared in the living room. Killer, Horror and Dust all paused and looked up from their card game and blinked at him. His uniform was smeared with green and blades of grass stuck to him randomly. He had a slightly manic look in his eyes.

“What the hell happened to you?” Killer asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Cross said stiffly, quickly leaving the room and heading to his room as Chara started laughing hysterically in the air next to him.


	33. Never One for Pretenders || Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cherry109 asked: “I was never what you wanted” for the poetry starter thing.
> 
> (I wasn’t sure if I should suggest a character as well or not, so I’m just gonna suggest Dream, but you can choose whoever you want)

His home was silent when he was dropped into it.

Dream stared up at the gray sky, the sun lighting up the place but hidden from view. It always looked like it would rain. Always. He blinked and gathered himself enough to sit up, dying trees entering his vision. In the corner of his eye, e could just see the start of the village, the houses crumbling even now. 

His hand clenched the dead grass beneath him as he thought about what happened over and over again. He had fought his brother countless times before, Nightmare had always said hurtful things…so why did it hurt so much now? It was like all the years of brushing it aside had finally caught up to him. It left a clenching feeling in his chest.

~~**(But the thing was…his brother was the smart one.** ~~

~~**He was always right.** ~~

~~**Always.)** ~~

He pulled himself to his feet and turned, staring up at the hill. A moment passed, just..staring. Then he started up it. The tree at the top was exactly how he had left it so long ago. It had been cut, more like torn completely in half. It was a pitiful sight. 

He felt nothing for it. Normally, he would be sad and tears would fill his eyes, but not now. He had finally grown up. He had seen all the damage this tree has caused Nightmare and him. He finally realized how selfish it had been, in creating the two of them for the sole purpose of protecting some stupid fruits that would be better of gone _–_

~~**(He realized that everything wouldn’t have happened like this if these apples didn’t exist.** ~~

~~**Everything would be better.** ~~

~~**They would be happy.** ~~

~~**…** ~~

~~**…were the emotions of the entire Multiverse really worth it, in the end?)** ~~

He hated it, to the best he was able to.

“You know, Mother,” he spat the title out. It didn’t belong in his mouth. “you are very selfish, you know that? If it wasn’t for your ‘gift’ of emotions, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

A rush of anger filled him. “If it wasn’t for you, we would be happy! It’s your fault! Not his, not theirs, not mine, but yours.” He clenched his fist and hit the bark, bits flying off. He repeated the action again and again as he screamed. “It’s your fucking fault! I hate you! I hate this job, this duty you gave me! I hate it!”

He stopped, breathing heavily. His fist stayed on the bark, pressed hard against it. He stared at the ground, anger still swirling inside of him. 

And, as if drawn by a magnet, his gaze went to the black apple by his foot.

He stilled.

There was a gentle pressure in his head and then it was like everything cleared up. Like he understood everything now. “If it wasn’t for that, for you…” he whispered, eyes locked on the apple that had made its way into his hands somehow. “…we would be equals.”

Dream blinked. He felt someone enter the world, the familiar negativity both comforting and confusing. Why was he here? Why now, when he finally understood everything, was he coming here to stop him?

~~**(…wasn’t this what he wanted?)** ~~

He laughed, the sound a bit bitter. “You know, it’s funny. You try so hard to be perfect, to be what everyone wants you to be, that you forget the truth: no one cares.” He narrowed his eyes. “Everyone is too selfish to care about you and how you feel.”

The negativity was getting closer.

~~**(…he should be happy. Why wasn’t he happy?)** ~~

Dream smiled sadly.

“ _I was never what you wanted_ , huh?”

He wasn’t sure who he was saying the words to.

Mother.

Nightmare.

The villagers.

The Multiverse.

…himself…

No matter what, it wouldn’t have changed anything.

Because, as the negativity spiked, the owner finally realizing what Dream was about to do, yelling his counterpart’s name in an attempt to stop him, Dream bit into the corrupted apple.


	34. I've Turned Into a Monster || Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> micha-draws asked: For the sentence thing,, “and the saddest part of all? you’ll cling to the good memories, as if there were any.” With Shattered Dream & Nightmare as a continuation thing for the last one if thats ok with you? 👉👈

When someone you love does something bad, you feel hurt. Maybe betrayed. You try to tell them that what they’re doing is wrong, that it’s unhealthy or destructive to them or other people. You try and try to get them back on the right path…but they never listen. They ignore you.

They justify it as being something they thought you wanted. 

**~~(“Aren’t you happy? Isn’t this what you wanted? I’m doing this for you. I understand now. We can be happy again, together!”)~~ **

Nightmare hates himself. It wasn’t a new feeling. Ever since the villagers had started to abuse him, this feeling of hate started. They couldn’t find an anchor in anyone else, so it turned inward. He told himself so many harsh things.

Then he realized that he shouldn’t be doing that, that it was the villagers he should be showing that animosity towards. So he tried it. And it just made things worse. It just grew and grew and grew until he couldn’t take it anymore and he did something stupid.

He ate the first black apple.

And that was only the beginning of the mistakes.

The apples had been corrupted by his hate, and so all that hate built and built upon itself, that it blinded all of his rational judgement. It clouded everything, of who’s to blame for everything, into a cloud of pure negativity and rage.

He hurt so many people. He terrorized so many people. He killed so many people. And Dream…oh, Dream…

**~~(The manic laughter rang in his ears as he watched his brother do the same mistake he did.~~ **

**~~But this time things were clearer.~~ **

**~~It was his fault.~~ **

**~~Only his. No one else's.)~~ **

He hurt his brother most of all. It took years for him to see that. His brother had lost his childish spark, had been forced to grow up so fast, in a world that had progressed immensely in the years he had been immobilized. He had tripped so many times without someone there to help him get back up.

Dream had been alone. 

So, so alone.

**~~(He deserved to feel the same kind of pain.~~ **

**~~He deserved to be in those shoes.~~ **

**~~He deserved to understand how badly he sessed things up.)~~ **

When you hurt someone, you don’t really realize it at first. Or maybe you do, but you don’t want to believe it. You tell yourself over and over that you were fine, this was fine. You ignore the fact that you’re driving the ones you hurt to do the same thing you did.

But when they do, you can’t ignore it anymore. You panic. You begin to realize where things went wrong, how everything fell apart. You realize that you turned into someone you didn’t recognize anymore.

_And the saddest part of all? You’ll cling to the good memories, as if there were any._ You’ll try to justify things that they could handle it better than you can, that they didn’t need you anymore, as you were the reason for this mess.

So you leave.

And the mess just gets worse the longer you ignore it.

**~~(At least he’s happy.~~ **

**~~At least the deep sadness coming from a sea of positivity was gone.~~ **

**~~At least he was free.)~~ **

Nightmare curled up tighter in his ball, trying to block out the screams of everyone in the Multiverse. He tried to block out everything that had to do with Dr–Shattered.

He tries to ignore everything and think about the before.

And everything outside gets worse.


	35. How They Control You || Shattered & Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> micha-draws asked: “And that’s how they control you” with Shattered & Dream? XP I’m really sorry for asking for Shattered Dream related stuff again,, there’s just not much S!D content and I need more cus hyper fixationss (Also that last drabble was amazing,, keep up the amazing work!! ^^)

The moment Dream opened his eyes in his dream, he knew that he had joined him again.

Whenever this happened, Dream was on edge. He knew that the other knew him better than he knew himself, always throwing truths at him when he turned his back to them. He knew that when he was running himself into the ground or letting people take advantage of him too much, he would get pulled here to have a chat.

And the thing was…he liked it. He liked having someone make him realize that he was in the wrong, that he deserved better. He liked having someone look out for him, worry about him, and that made him guilty and scared. 

“ **Don’t,** ” Shattered said from behind him, voice sharp, finally making his presence acknowledgeable. 

Dream shut his eyes and head the words, pushing those thoughts away.

There were things the two disagreed about. 

Dream liked helping people, seeing them smile in joy. He thought they deserved to feel like that, that it was his duty to help them and make sure they’re safe. He wanted to help them. He wanted to make sure they lived.

Shattered thought it was worthless, that he should be denying them his help because they used him too much to be rewarded like that. He wanted to show them that he can’t be used like that. He wanted to make sure they hurt or…died.

And because Shattered was a shadow of Dream, it was basically what he wanted deep down. That made him sad, made him want to call himself names and make sure he understands that that kind of thinking is wrong. Thatkind of thinking won’t help save Night–

“ **Stop it.** ” Shattered huffed, hitting Dream on the arm with a tentacle. “ **You know I don’t like you thinking about that stuff.** ”

Dream opened his eyes and faced him, golden eyes meeting their darker counterpart. “I can’t control it.”

Shattered darkened. “ **No. But thinking like that…it makes you vulnerable.** ” He tilted his head. “ **And you’re the guardian of positivity, are you not? You shouldn’t be vulnerable. Especially not in front of him.** ”

Dream’s fist clenched. There were things he wanted to say, things that he knew Shattered wouldn’t like, but he couldn’t get them to come out. “That won’t help save him.” ~~I’m beginning to think nothing will~~

“ **It won’t.** ” **~~I don’t know why you’re still trying anymore~~**

“It’s another mess I’ll add onto the pile.” ~~Because it’s my mess to fix~~

Shattered stared at him, his eye blazing. It looked as though he heard everything anyway. “ **It’s not.** ”

“Yes, it is.”

“ **It’s not your fault!** ” Shattered stepped forward. “ **How many times must I say it? It’s everyone else’s fault, including Nightmare!** ” There was a feeling in the air, something pressing down.

Dream’s eyes widened. This was new. “It’s not–”

“ **Oh, don’t do that now.** ” Shattered pressed further down and Dream felt like he couldn’t breathe. “ **I’m sick of you not listening to me. I try and try to help you, but you ignore it in favour of letting yourself be wrongly accused.** ”

He took another step forward. “ **You let Nightmare say to you that it’s your fault without fighting it. You accept that it is. You’re wrong. Why can’t you see that?** ” It was weird. There almost seemed to be pain in his voice. He had never sounded like that before. Dream still couldn’t say anything. “ **You get told that so much that you believe it.**

“ **Well, news flash: It’s. Not. Your. Fault. It never was. But by the ways things went, you think it is. Those feelings morph into guilt and sadness, which make you want to do better, even if it means sacrificing yourself for some selfish people who can’t seem to look after themselves.** ”

Shattered paused and took a breath to steady him. The pressure released and Dream gasped, falling to his knees. Footsteps approached him and Shattered crouched beside him. Dream raised his eyes, still quiet.

“ _And that’s how they control you._ ” His voice was soft now, almost pitying. ” **They use that guilt, that need to do better, and they use it to make you protect them.** ” Dream didn’t do anything other than blink. “ **And that makes me sick.** ”

Dream swallowed and opened his mouth to say something, but then there was a pulling in his chest. He knew Shattered felt it too.

It was time to wake up.

Shattered backed away, the sound making Dream look at him again. He was watching with an unreadable expression. “ **I’m done sitting aside and watching you do this, Dream. I’m going to make them see that they shouldn’t use you like that. I’ll make them all see.** ” His eye narrowed into a glare filled with hate. “ **I’ll make Nightmare see just how much hurt he’s caused.** ”

With that, Dream fell into the waking world.


	36. Let Me Love You || Cream/Xunshine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fiddlethecat asked: “You’ve gotten so used to being hurt that happiness scares you” from the prompt list?

Cross and Dream were in Haventale when it happened. 

It had been a nice day. They were in the park having a little picnic as a way of relaxing after the last few stressful days. They laughed and talked and watched the other people in the park having fun. They thought that everything was fine, that things between them were good.

It was this line of thinking, how everything had been going so smoothly, that Cross decided it was time to say his piece. Something he had been struggling and worrying over for a while now. 

He looked over at the guardian beside him.

He was…beautiful. The golden eyes shone in the sun and the smile on his face enhanced their beauty by making them look so happy, so full of joy. His clothes fit his body perfectly, letting the gracefulness and fighting spirit show off. But Cross liked the crown most of all. Not for what it meant, thought that was pretty respectful in itself, but in the way that it was pure Dream energy. He didn’t think the guardian would look the same without it.

The image only made Cross more nervous. He didn’t want to ruin things between them. He had been so happy with the other. He didn’t want to lose that. He wouldn’t be able to handle it.

But it was time to say it.

Cross closed his eyes, steeled himself, and let the words fall out of his mouth. “I love you.”

And just like that, he could feel a tension form between them. Now came for the convincing, making sure Dream knows he isn’t lying. He opened his eyes just as Dream turned towards him, eyes dimmed slightly.

“…what?” Dream asked, voice quiet. There was a bit of distrust in it, as if he couldn’t let himself believe it. 

The thought made Cross’s heart hurt.

He swallowed, repeating, “I love you.” He didn’t let himself back down. “Have for a while. And…and I know you won’t believe me, but I promise you. It’s true.” He met the guardian’s eyes. “I love you, Dream.”

Dream stared and him for a few seconds and he let himself hope. Maybe he’ll listen. Maybe he’ll return the feelings. Maybe they’ll have a happy ever after like all the stories.

Then Dream looked away.

Cross’s heart sank.

“You don’t mean that.”

Cross gave a pained expression that the guardian didn’t see. He schooled it into a frown. He didn’t want to make the other feel even worse. “I do.” Dream looked back at him, searching. He nodded. “I really do.”

Dream inhaled. “Then you’re wrong.”

There it was. He knew this would happen. He knew it. But he still did it anyways. And he knew what was going to happen next. Dream was going to give him all the reasons why Cross shouldn’t love him. The pain in his eyes gave him away. He was going to give him these reasons, hiding what he truly felt, denying himself the right to feel what he wants to feel.

A few months with the guardian and he already understands him so well…

“You’re wrong because those feelings aren’t real.” Dream continued, his voice shaking. It had a half monotone feel to it, as if the words were rehearsed or said so many times before. “It’s just a side effect of my aura. You think that they’re real, convinced that they are, but they’re just…not.” They were both quiet. “I should go.”

The guardian made to leave, but Cross stopped him, holding onto his wrist tightly. He pulled the other back down and grabbed the other wrist too, holding them in a gentle yet firm grip. Dream didn’t struggle, just stared at their hands with tired eyes.

“You’re staying.” There was no room for argument. “And you’re going to listen to me.”

An anger burned inside of him. Not at Dream, but to whoever decided that the guardian should have that cursed aura in the first place. It was cruel. The accept of it seemed like a blessing, but to actually with it would be a curse. And Dream was so strong to be able to accept that and still try and use it for good, not manipulating people.

Cross waited until Dream raised his eyes to met him. He waited until he saw that the golden eyes widen at the sympathy and pure, unfiltered love coming from Cross’s eyes, from Cross’s soul. 

Then he spoke. “ _You’ve gotten so used to being hurt that happiness scares you_.” He saw the other blink, not expecting that answer. “That’s the reason why you don’t believe it. So many times someone had been fooled by your aura into thinking they’re in love with you when they aren’t. They made you hope and that hope was crushed when you had to explain to them the truth and basically broke their heart. All those times have led to you never being shown actual love, real love.

“So you don’t know what that would look like. And that scares you. You can predict that people aren’t in love with you, but you can’t when they are. It would be something you’re not used to. The only thing you know is that that real love won’t be affected by your aura to an extent like all the others. That they’ll think about if they’re feelings are real before telling you.”

He could tell that Dream hadn’t even realized some of this. “I love you, Dream. I know that those feelings are real because I’ve wondered if I’ve just been affected by your aura or not. I’ve even tested it.” He gave the wrists he was holding a squeeze before letting them go. “It’s not your aura.”

Dream stayed silent.

“You don’t have to do anything right now. All I ask is that you give me a chance to prove that these feelings are genuine.”

Dream’s voice was quiet. “I believe you, though.”

Cross smiled sadly. “No, you don’t. And that’s fine. I’ll prove it. Just…” He sighed and looked at Dream pleadingly. “Just let me love you.”

Dream was still staring at his hands. Then he changed the subject. “Halloween’s coming. We should decide if we really are going to hand out candy to the kids in this AU, and some others, before it comes.”

Cross smiled. He let the subject change. He knew that he was being given a chance and he vowed that he wouldn’t let it go. “We should.”


	37. INTERMISSION: MISCELLANEOUS DRABBLES END

This concludes the intermission! 

Shortly, we should return to the regular showings of oneshots. Although, I will inform you know that I may return with a new oneshot instead of the next part to any of my mini-series. This is because I need to get back into them, a little bit. I need to find the wavelength of the story again before I complete them. I will complete them, don't worry.

Also, note that this intermission will return again in the future.


	38. DestructiveDeath || Somewhere Only We Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS LANGUAGE.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

**I walked across an empty land**

* * *

As the god of death, Reaper was often alone.

He could touch no mortal because they would die at his touch, making him or his brother reap them. This has been a fact of his life from a very young age, only a few centuries old. He wasn’t to talk to mortals, never come into contact with them. They were beneath him. They didn’t deserve to see such an important figure like himself. 

He still remembered the first time a mortal died by his touch. He had been hysterical. He didn’t know that it was normal for him, that it was going to be his curse to bear. At the time, he had thought he had done something wrong. Like any other kid who made a mistake, he panicked and didn’t tell his creator what he had done until he was cornered by the man himself.

“Reaper,” Creator had said, voice betraying nothing of what his mood was. It was always like that. Calm. To Reaper, unnerving. “I see you betrayed my orders.” It wasn’t a question, but a fact.

Reaper wanted to hide. To disappear and never face the consequences for what he did. But that was wrong. That would be digging himself a bigger hole, and therefore a bigger punishment. Creator was law. You always went by his word, for he knew all was always right, no matter what you did. So, Reaper pushed away his fear and straightened, looking his creator in the eye, no emotion present, just as he knew the older liked.

“I did.”

He didn’t say sorry either. Father didn’t like that.

In response, his creator did something Reaper never knew possible. His mouth curved into a smile. Reaper stared, eyes wide. He wondered if this was some weird punishment for his betrayal. If it was, it just took number one as his least favourite.

Creator sighed and gestured for the younger to follow him as he started walking. Reaper followed without a second thought. “I suppose I should have told you sooner,” Creator said, not looking at him. “so that you didn’t accidentally do something like this.”

Reaper blinked. His curiosity outweighed his distrust. “Tell me what?”

And so, his creator began the explanation of why death’s power was so extreme, why it should be fear by all.

It was this discussion that sprouted the seeds that would grow into the dislike he felt for his existence and job. He would feel disgust every time he reaped someone’s soul. The feeling of his powers shifting and expanding as he did his job made him shiver. But he managed it. It was fine, in the long run. At least it was him and not his brother, who got the better part of the job.

His brother got the gentle souls. The good ones.

Reaper got the bad ones. The sinful ones.

It was this way for millennia. Doing his job, acting as the obedient soldier his creator loved him to be. All while keeping his personal business a secret. He visited Life as much as he could, which he knew she appreciated.

It was…manageable, if quiet, boring.

Until he discovered the Save Screen in the AU of Aftertale.

* * *

**I knew the pathway like the back of my hand**

* * *

The blackness was intriguing to Reaper. He had never seen a place so desolate before. Even when he entered the realm of magic, there were colours and stars all over the place. But this place? There was nothing. At least, until he reached what he assumed was the middle.

A patch of glass highlighted with a light that had no source.

Two floating buttons: CONTINUE or RESET.

His curiosity increased. It was like nothing he had seen before. He had seen many snowy forests, heard echo flowers saying the same thing over and over, felt the heat of the CORE all too many times…but he had never seen this. The inner workings of the world. A place he had believed to never exist.

The Save Screen.

“Who the hell are you?!”

The voice startled him and he turned, looking down at the origin. A small skeleton monster, with white clothing and a torn red scarf. He was drawn to the monster’s eye. A patch of white boxes covered it, the other formed into a glare that the god thought looked…not threatening. Maybe cute, but not threatening.

Reaper blinked. He smiled.

He decided he liked this monster.

He was gonna keep him.

“Why,” Reaper started, lazily floating forward into the monster’s face to look him in the eye. “I’m a thief.” He winked. “And I’m here to steal your heart.”

The monster blinked, slowly.

Reaper stayed smirking.

Then the monster punched him.

* * *

**I felt the earth beneath my feet**

**Sat by the river and it made me complete**

* * *

Geno was adorable.

Whenever Reaper teased him, flirted with him, or talked dirty with him, a blush would rise up and consume his cheeks and he would tense up like a cat, usually telling the god to shut up. But the god didn’t care. He knew the other liked it. He saw the smiles and amusement dancing in his eye when he tried to hide it. It made him feel smug that, no matter how much he denied it, the mortal liked having the god around.

But that wasn’t the best part.

Geno didn’t die at his touch.

Neither knew why, but the mortal just…didn’t. Maybe the glitched around his eye worsened a tad bit, but that was the significant effect. Nothing else. It baffled Reaper and confused Geno. They just decided to accept the gift for what it was.

Reaper loved it. He exploited it as much as he could, relishing in the times when Geno got fed up and punched or slapped him and he didn’t dust away, leaving the god alone. He liked the feeling of picking the other up whenever he wanted to and the other would struggle before he saw the god’s grin and then settle down, grumbling as if he was truly angry.

(He wasn’t. He was just acting like the cat he was.)

The years of this relationship were the best of the god’s life. He found that he was the happiest he ever was. His face always held a grin. His brother had asked what made him so happy, on the rare days that he was now home. Not wanting to put Geno’s life in jeopardy, he lied and made up some random excuse. Not that his brother believed him. But he stopped asking.

When Reaper realized that he had fallen in love with the mortal, he had panicked. This went against one of the main laws in place: never speak to a mortal; never befriend one. Well, he had certainly done more than speak and befriend one. He didn’t know what to do.

So, he went to the person who gave him the best advice.

His brother.

After a lecture on lying, his brother had told him to simply confess. If it didn’t go well, it didn’t go well. It didn’t matter. The two of them would probably remain friends, with as close a bond that they had. The advice gave him confidence. Reaper decided to confess right away. There was no use delaying the inevitable.

But when he got to the Save Screen, it was empty.

* * *

**Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?**

**I’m getting tired and I need someone to rely on**

* * *

Reaper was devastated.

He searched through all of the AUs over and over again, but he found no trace of the one he loved. He refused to give up. Geno had to be here, somewhere. The mortal couldn’t just…up and leave, could he?

His brother had to find him and force him back home, as he had been neglecting his duties. He was put on watch by the king, to make sure he wouldn’t run off again.

He hated it.

He tried to focus on his job because he understood that he shouldn’t be turning a blind eye to his job, but he just couldn’t. No matter what he did, something would remind of Geno and he would get angry and sad again. The mortal never left his thoughts.

He wanted him back.

He was…lonely without him.

He didn’t like being lonely.

* * *

**I came across a fallen tree**

* * *

Error, the destroyer, was someone Reaper didn’t interact with.

He heard rumours about the other and had seen him work from a distance, but he had never gone up and talked to the other. He was still hung up on the disappearance of Geno, even though it had been years since the last time he saw him. But when he saw the destroyer, for some reason, the curiosity that had drawn him to Geno was drawing him to Error.

If he was honest, it frightened him. Also infuriated him. Geno was the only person who had made him so happy and he had left. And here was Error, someone he had never talked to, who so ruthlessly murdered countless innocents every day, who he felt the same initial attraction to. Was the destroyer trying to replace the mortal? How dare he!

But he wouldn’t know why until he talked with the other, no matter how much he didn’t want to. It would all be cleared up. He wanted it to be cleared up. He just…didn’t want to talk to him. That’s when he thought of something that would act as a compromise, that would let him see why Error was so special without him talking to the other.

He stalked the destroyer.

…

…what?

…

In hindsight, Reaper would think later, when he was dangling from some blue strings in the Anti-Void (a place that reminded him like the Save Screen, but made him feeling unease unlike the other did), stalking someone who destroyed AUs in a snap and heard voices probably wasn’t the best idea.

Since Error wasn’t around at the moment, he looked around the place, eyeing the dolls distrustfully.

“Okay, who the hell are you and why are you stalking me?!”

The glitchy voice made Reaper blink and look down. The destroyer stood there, tense. He was glaring at the god. Something about the way he did so seemed…familiar to him, in a painful way.

~~(“Who the hell are you?!”~~

~~“Why, I’m a thief. And I’m here to steal your heart.”)~~

The god shook the past away.

He glared right back at the destroyer.

Then he noticed it.

There in the destroyer’s eyes. A look that told the god he was trying to cover something up, something that looked like…pain? But why? It wasn’t like he knew Reaper…unless…a thought formed in his head, one that seemed impossible.

* * *

**I felt the branches of it looking at me**

* * *

“Are you going to answer me?” Error snapped, crossing his arms defensively.

Reaper tilted his head, looking the other over thoughtfully. He needed to test this thought, to have the proof in front of him before he believed it. “Can I see your soul?”

The destroyer blinked. It took him a minute to process it. Reaper could tell when he did because a blush appeared across him checks, the blue and yellow gradient perfect. “What!” The answer resembled a squeak.

“I said, can I see your soul?”

“No, I know what you said—”

“Then why did you say ‘what’?”

“Because it’s an inappropriate thing to ask!”

Reaper raised an eyebrow.

“Shut it!” Error said, bush increasing. “I’m not showing you my soul.”

Reaper sighed. So, it’s the hard way, is it? “I was afraid you’d say that.”

Error blinked, confused. “What—”

The destroyer yelped and scrambled back a few steps as Reaper summoned his scythe and ripped himself free of his strings. The god approached the destroyer calmly and the other prepared to fight. Before he could make a move, the god thrust his scythe under his chin, the blade resting just shy of his throat.

The destroyer froze.

By the magic of the scythe, his soul was summoned forth and Reaper stared at it, no emotion present. Well then…

The destroyer’s soul was just a sliver of a piece, like it had been ripped from its owner.

It looked just like Geno’s.

The thought made Reaper’s mask break. Why did Error have Geno’s soul? The only explanation would be that somehow his love had turned into the glitch before him, who looked like a wild animal that had been cornered. The god didn’t want to believe it…but the proof was too strong.

He looked up into the destroyer’s eyes.

The truth was written there, too. Underneath the angry front he put on, there was a panic and pain that Reaper longed to take away. He didn’t want to see his love feeling any of that. The worry he had been reserving for when he found Geno overflowed and made tears gather in his eyes.

He saw Error’s eyes widen and he knew the other had seen the tears.

The god of death retracted his scythe and reached forward. “Gen—”

In a blink, he was sent through a portal and into a random AU, away from ~~Geno~~ Error.

* * *

**Is this the place we used to love?**

**Is this the place that I’ve been dreaming of?**

* * *

Reaper tried to talk to the destroyer many times after that.

He never succeeded.

The pain of having someone he loved always running away from him was almost too much to bear. But he kept trying. He promised himself that he would make his way through to the other. Make him realize how much he loved him, no matter what name he went by or what he looked like.

He wasn’t going to let him go this time.

Never again.

* * *

**Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?**

**I’m getting old and I need something to rely on.**

* * *

Reaper watched as Error fought Ink.

He had a plan this time and just had to wait for the right moment to use it.

He winced at every hit that landed on the destroyer and felt pride every time his love had an attack hit the other. One particular hit made him twitch with worry, fighting the urge to interfere and hold Error in his arms, making sure he was okay and stayed okay.

But if he did that, he would probably be kicked out of a job, which would just be bad for everyone.

So, he waited.

Eventually, Ink retreated, leaving Error alone in the AU. The destroyer stayed for a minute to catch his breath and Reaper watched, preparing to go over and interrupt him once the time was right.

The destroyer stood and turned, raising a hand to open a portal.

Reaper’s hand twitched on his scythe and he shot forwards.

Now.

* * *

**And if you have a minute why don’t we go**

**Talk about it somewhere only we know?**

* * *

Just before the destroyer left, Reaper grabbed his hand and pulled the other towards him and through his own portal.

Once they landed, Error pushed the other away, which Reaper allowed. He watched with a smile starting as his love gazed around to find out where they were. He watched as he froze at the sight of the dark void and two glowing buttons in the air.

CONTINUE or RESET.

* * *

**This could be the end of everything**

**So why don’t we go**

**Somewhere only we know?**

**Somewhere only we know?**

* * *

The Save Screen. Aftertale.

Their place, a place only they knew.

The destroyer tensed. “Why did you bring me here.” It wasn’t really a question with the way he said it so stiffly. So…scared.

“Well,” Reaper started, ignoring the hurt he felt from making the other scared. “I figured that if you won’t speak to me regularly, as normal people would, I had to kidnap you.” He tilted his head, smiling even if the other wasn’t looking. “I had to bring you to a place you can’t refuse.”

He could see the way the other struggled with himself. Should he drop the act or continue playing as if he didn’t know where he was? Reaper saw how the other really wanted to go with the second option, keeping this place in the past, forgotten. He didn’t want anything to do with this place anymore.

Reaper knew that. And he decided that, if Error chose that option, he would respect that. He would put Geno in the past and try to be friends with Error. If he was still refused, then he would leave the other alone. It didn’t matter how he felt on the topic.

Error wasn’t Geno anymore, not entirely, and he had to accept that.

But to his surprise, Error went with the first one.

* * *

**Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?**

* * *

“I never liked it here.” Error whispered, making Reaper freeze for a minute. “I still don’t.”

He blinked at the other, close to openly gaping at him. Then he shook himself and straightened, playing with his scythe in hopes to calm himself. “I’m sorry.” He really was, too. “This was the only way you would listen to me.”

That actually got a little laugh out of the other, who turned to face Reaper. “I suppose. But now that you caught me, can we leave this place?”

Their eyes met; one pair full of hope and the other full of pain.

Reaper tilted his head again. He echoed Error’s words. “I suppose.” He paused and reached up to rub his chin. “Well, that is if you promise not to run away from me. Again.” He gave a grin.

Error looked at him without amusement.

“What? It’s a perfectly reasonable request.”

“I make no promises.”

“Aw. Then I guess we’re staying here.”

“No, we’re not.”

“You’re not promising.”

“We’re still leaving.”

Reaper only laughed and Error turned and opened a portal.

They left for Outertale.

* * *

**I’m getting old and I need someone to rely on**

* * *

They continued bantering as they walked. It felt natural, like a piece of the puzzle clicked back into place and now everything went more smoothly. They stopped for a minute to rest, looking up at the stars.

Reaper looked over to Error.

The destroyer looked magical, sitting there and staring at the stars with a smile and eyes full of awe. He was glad that the pain so prominent in his eyes had gone away, for now. What was left was someone who deserved everything, able to sit with peace of mind that everything was alright. He deserved to be alright, to be loved. His glitches had even calmed significantly, only one or two remaining. Besides that, the mostly black bones glowed elegantly in the lighting.

He looked perfect.

Reaper smiled and an itch grew in the back of his throat. He longed to say the words he had been holding in for so long, but he wasn’t sure if it was time. They had only just reconciled. He didn’t want to ruin things before they started to get better.

But then Error turned to him with a questioning smile, looking even more beautiful that he couldn’t build up a block in time, so the words came blurting through:

“I love you.”

* * *

**So tell me when you’re gonna let me in**

* * *

They both froze.

Error blinked for a minute, the surprise openly shown on his face.

Reaper internally panicked. He was so screwed! Why did he do that? He had just found his love again after years of searching—years of haven given up—and now he just threw it all away. But he couldn’t just say he was kidding, too. That would just make him a jerk.

He had to calm down and explain himself. Make sure that Error understood that he wasn’t messing around, that he truly loved the other no matter what he looked like or how he acted. The fact was that he loved the destroyer.

That was it.

Reaper cleared his throat and continued. “I have for years. I was going to tell you, but then you disappeared. And now I’ve found you again. So…

“I love you, Error. And I mean that. It isn’t just something to make you feel better. It’s not some leftover feelings from Geno. I mean, I don’t even care that he’s gone! Well, I care, you know, because I loved him—like I love you! But my point is, that if you want to move on from being him, then I get that. I accept that, and I would say I moved on from him a long time ago. I just didn’t realize it because I didn’t know he had turned into you.”

Reaper inhaled shakily and swallowed. His vision had become a bit blurred from tears that had appeared with how nervous he was. Error was silent. The god of death concluded his confession in a whisper. “I love you, whatever that may be. Whether Geno or Error. I love you. Nothing in the world can change that.”

He stopped and held his breath.

Error was still silent.

“You’re an idiot.”

Reaper blinked, vision still blurred. “What?” He winced at the shakiness of his voice.

Error shook his head and laughed lightly, something soft hidden in it. “I said, you’re an idiot.” His expression changed, becoming something sad. “Why would you love me? I mean…I get loving Geno. He was normal and nice and…a monster with unfortunate circumstances. But me? I’m a monster. I’ve killed thousands of people, more than half of them innocent. I hear voices in my head and fight people on a regular basis.” He laughed again, this time in a self-deprecating kind of way. “How can you love someone like that?”

Reaper tilted his head. It seemed, to him, that Error believed he was unworthy of love just because of something he couldn’t control. By being the destroyer, he had to kill people. There’s no way around it. And just by looking at the pain in the other’s eyes, he could see that it wasn’t something he was actively choosing to do.

So, if he was doing something he didn’t want to do, why would that make him unworthy of love? In the god’s opinion, that just made him more loveable. It told him that he was a good person at the core. It was one trait that he still shared with Geno. They both were doing things they didn’t really want to do, just had or thought they had no choice in the matter.

However, just because Reaper saw it that way, did not mean Error did.

And that was something he had to change.

* * *

**I’m getting tired and I need somewhere to begin**

* * *

Reaper laughed, making Error jump. “And you think that one of the gods of death hasn’t killed people?” He smiled more coldly than he intended. “It’s part of my job. I reap souls. In order to do that, I need to make sure they’re dead. That’s where my curse comes into play.” He held up a hand. “Whenever I touch someone, they instantly die. Same goes with plants. Anything living, really. I touch them and they die.”

He looked over at the destroyer. “But not you. You never dusted when I touched you. I’m still not even sure why. But that doesn’t matter.” He put his hand down. “The point is, I’ve killed people as well. You’re not special.”

Error blinked twice. “But—”

“They were innocent? I know. But that’s not your fault. It’s part of your job. You destroy AU’s, doesn’t matter if they’re designed to be good or bad. Your job isn’t about that; it’s about making room. Without you, the AU’s would crash into each other and collapse, in turn killing the entire multiverse.” Reaper smiled. “In a way, you’re protecting the multiverse instead of destroying it. Aren’t you?”

Error looked at him. “I don’t understand how you can think that way.”

“Give it a few weeks. It’ll grow on you.”

He snorted. “I doubt that. Idiocy isn’t contagious.”

“After all that, I’m still an idiot?”

“Oh, definitely.”

* * *

**And if you have a minute why don’t we go**

**Talk about it somewhere only we know?**

* * *

When they parted ways for the evening, Error stopped Reaper as he turned to leave.

Before the god could do anything, the destroyer leaned up and kissed his cheek. It was like time froze for a minute. Reaper almost didn’t believe what was happening was even real, but the warmth on his cheek was too pleasant to ignore. All he could do in turn was blink and gape when the other pulled back, a light blush on his face.

“I may not understand how you think now,” Error said, “but I think I might like to try to, if that’s alright?”

The god of impure deaths blinked and smiled, said smile full of love and affection for the destroyer in front of him. “I’d love that.”

* * *

**‘Cause this could be the end of everything**

**So why don’t we go**

**Somewhere only we know?**

**Somewhere only we know?**


	39. Nightmare & Dark Cream || Blinded By Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS LANGUAGE.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

Love is, perhaps, one of, if not the strongest force in the entire multiverse. It is what drives humans and monsters to fight, to protect and care for, to cherish and take revenge. It is what people listen to most, when times are tough and they need to take drastic measures. Listen to their heart, to love, or listen to logic, common sense? Reason or fantasy? Imagination or fact? Both of these options can be right, be it at the same time or at different times, and other times they can both make an even bigger mess.

Sometimes, though, people can even love too much. That is when love becomes dangerous. It can become harmful and restless, untamed and wild. It can make people do things they deemed unethical or immoral before they fell into this love, became blinded by that love. Their mind becomes unhinged, wondering if this or if that will make the one they hold so dear return their love and love them the same way. Drastic measures can be taken in this state, either inwards on the person themselves, or outwards on others they care for and strangers they’ve never met before.

Despite all the possibilities of this force, nothing can change how powerful it is. This is a mystery no one has managed to solve, or ever will. It is not meant to be solved—that would just take the pleasure out of it. Everyone likes believing in love, even when they think it will never be for them. It’s just how they are. Love can help them forget all the flaws about themselves and the world around them.

This force is something that intrigues Nightmare. He knows he has felt it before, and is still capable of feeling it, even after everything he’s done, but he still does not understand it. What causes these feelings? Is it by chance or some predetermined thing? Does he have a say in who he falls in love with? The questions nag at him every now and then, through day and night like a virus he can’t get rid of. He sometimes finds himself unable to sleep because he has to force himself to let go of these thoughts, allow himself to fall asleep without an answer to them, no matter how much it makes his stomach turn.

There is one constant thing about this force of love that he knows without a doubt, however: he loves Dream, has never and will never stop.

The apple incident, as it has come to be known, is something that will always haunt his thoughts. Nightmare can’t remember his exact line of thinking now, but he knows that he ate the apples as a desperate act to protect Dream, mostly, and to protect himself. His brother was the most important thing in his life. The villagers tried to take that away from him, but he wouldn’t let them. He ate the apples, but something about his big plan to protect went wrong. The protect aspect got lost, which just left him and a ton of power he couldn’t control and people who were glaring at him and one person who was crying.

He couldn’t recognize his own brother. All he saw was someone defying him and stopping him from fulfilling his plan, even if he couldn’t remember it. And that someone stopped him from becoming unstoppable, so he got angry. How dare this little runt stand in his way? Doesn’t he know that he should be begging, grovelling on his knees, pleading for mercy? Doesn’t he know that he’s outmatched and out of hope? And then he did what any villain faced with a hero who wouldn’t give up did: he tried to kill him.

Luckily, he failed, but Dream ended up encased in stone for years, while Nightmare was left with a multiverse and a sick thought to conquer it. So, he set out to do just that. He didn’t look back. He didn’t stop for a minute to wonder if the person who stood against him still lived, if he was conscious in that prison. Instead, he turned with a smile, believing the stone to hold forever and leave no one to oppose him.

The years left alone were good for only one reason, and that was that it let him learn how to control his powers and regain the initial thought process he had. He grew calmer and more comfortable, barely able to remember a time when he felt so good. He remembered the villagers and their abuse and Dream, which put a whole spin on his way of thinking. Nightmare had realized, randomly while working away at a stack of paperwork, that Dream was the one who he had turned to stone and that thought, that little thought right there made his heart twist, something that he hated to feel. Whenever Dream came into his head, he would force himself to not love him, not worry about him, not give a fuck about him.

It never truly worked.

That’s the thing about love. It doesn’t go away, not if the person was nice and good for you, if they were your everything, your world. Losing that person would make all your negative emotions and worst thought rear their ugly heads, trying to tear into and cut you open, pour salt into wounds that may have just been freshly healed. It would make you regret everything that you think could’ve made them leave like that and why you deserved it, why you should feel so bad. Losing the one you loved tears out your heart and lets it rot while you stare blankly at it, unable to comprehend why this is happening.

No matter how much he forced himself to disregard his brother, he still cared and that hurt. The hurt only intensified when Dream came back, a mix of hardened and fragile look in his eyes and aura that made Nightmare’s worry expand deep down in the pit he buried it in. It made him think, all through their numerous battles, _Did I do this? Did I create this hurt that surrounds him? How am I any different from those bullies when I can make my brother look so broken, so wrong, like how they made my bones look?_

He did so many terrible things, said so many insults and what he thought were truths. Every fight they had, he saw Dream lose more and more hope, lose the will to fight but keep pushing anyways. He hated it. He hated himself. He felt disgust at every word he said. But he was too committed to stop now. Everything was woven too tightly to be undone now. He couldn’t go back, couldn’t give that thought a possibility of happening. Nightmare himself willed Dream to keep fighting, even when he looked the most tired, because he didn’t want to win anymore. He was tired. They both were. And he knew that him losing would be the best option for everything.

Then…one final act of cruelty pushed Dream too far and he ate an apple of his own.

Nothing hurt more than seeing the one person you care for above anyone else do the exact same mistake you did. Nothing. He could only watch, horror filling him, as Dream shouted in pain right in front of him, the corruption spilling over him like a wave. All his thoughts were jumbled and there was an ache in his chest that made it hard for him to breathe. Nightmare realized, at this moment, that he had played the villain for so long, he had no clue what words to say to play the hero, or even if he could. This process was impossible to stop once it started.

None of his actions would do anything worthwhile, and that scared him. Everything about this outcome of his actions scared him. There was a guilt building on his back that he was sure he would drown in in the aftermath, but for now, the guilt and the fear all culminated into the need to run. Just…get out. Get somewhere to sit down and think. He found himself following that need without realizing it, taking a slow step back, followed by another, and another, until something snapped and he turned and ran. He ran without looking back, taking no notice until later of Cross standing there, watching Dream also with tears streaming down his face.

He ran and ran until he was out of the AU and in his home, the castle he’d built for himself to keep the rest of the world out and him safe and sound inside. His team he had gathered, stupid followers of a mad king, noticed him and, upon realizing that their king had fallen so low into a weak monster, grew angry. They yelled and barked, growled in hate and left, saying that if Nightmare was willing to give everything up just because of one small consequence, then he was unfit to lead.

Nightmare never replied, only absorbing the words and letting them wash over his mind. He was unable to think of anything else besides Dream and corruption and how much of a monster he had become. It killed him inside and he fell to his knees, staring blankly at the floor, not seeing anything besides Dream eating the apple, corruption overspilling over him, everything he said that led to this moment.

Briefly, all of that went away and he caught a glimpse of his hand, the white bones burning into his vision. He held it up and stared, turning it over slowly.

_Oh_ , he thought faintly, _so the corruption was pushed back by my own fear and panic._

It’s rather ironic, in some ways.

He heard a step echo through the room and he let his hand fall, his eyes drawn to the only one of his subordinates that stayed. Killer. The other stared down at him with concern, and crouched in front of him, opening his mouth and—

“Nightmare?”

Something pressed down on his shoulders and Nightmare blinked, the images of the past fading away, stored back in his memory as they should be. He looked up to Killer, who had put his hand on his shoulder and looked at him with the same concern as before. For a minute, he was lost. What was happening again? Then he looked around and made eye contact with Cross, who gazed back with anger and desperation, tears tumbling slowly down his face, and his eyes were drawn down to the guard’s arms, to Dream—and he remembered.

_Oh._

Killer had left, claiming that he was going to think for a while, but Nightmare knows that wasn’t the truth—they both knew Cross and Dream…Shattered would come eventually, for good or for worse—and had come back looking conflicted, if a bit panicked. Nightmare had been concerned, but before he could ask what was wrong, Cross entered behind him, his brother in his arms, unconscious and covered in apple blossoms, the white colouring looking so out of place it was all he could see for a minute.

His feet seemed rooted to the ground. The world seemed to disappear, leaving only him and his brother, the version of him formed out of Nightmare’s mistakes, and all he could see was what led to this version, led to all of this happening. He saw nothing but the past until Killer broke him out of it, reminding him about the current and important situation.

All at once, now he remembered, the emotions came flooding back: worry, fear, panic, confusion. They were all tangled together, so woven into a ball that held itself in his chest and made it difficult to breathe. He forced himself to work past it all. His feelings didn’t matter at this moment; all that did was Sh—Dream and what was wrong with him.

The apple blossoms were new, that was the only piece of thought he could hold onto amidst everything. That was where the confusion stemmed from. During his corruption, no apple blossoms had ever grown on him before. He couldn’t understand it. He had to try and understand it. From the looks of things, that was what caused him to go unconscious in the first place, and most likely the source of other problems that they could deal with later.

It was decided then; the first action would be to know about these flowers—where they came from, when they started appearing, what were they and, finally, why they were there.

Nightmare swallowed and stepped forward, calling upon his experience as a king to help him keep his emotions in check as he found out how to help. “Lay him down.” He cringed slightly at the way his voice shook, but pushed that aside as Cross obeyed silently, staying kneeled beside Dream, keeping his eyes on the one he followed.

Nightmare watched for a minute, knowing time most likely of the essence, but finding himself unable to bring himself to take away such a caring and loving gaze. It was obvious that Cross loved Dream, no matter his actions or how much he tried to push him away. That was how strong his love was. And Nightmare already knew, without having to see it himself, that Dream loved him back just as strongly, no matter how much he denied it. Their love was a love built on the understanding of each other's vulnerabilities and deepest, most ugly anger and hate and loving the other through it all. It was beautiful to see.

But that love, while nice as it may be, wasn’t the focus right now and Nightmare hesitantly kneeled down opposite of Cross, on the other side of Dream.

It pained him to see Dream in pain this close up. He could see it in the way his fingers twitched so slightly and there was a grimace in his sleep, seemingly permanent. The corruption was still strong, which caused another wave of guilt over Nightmare, which he stubbornly ignored for this moment, and contrasted greatly with the apple blossoms. There were more flowers than he thought. They covered his brother’s eye that hadn’t been covered by the corruption, rendering him blind. They peeked through the top of his shirt, continuing down until they poked out of the ends of the sleeves, meeting the ones coming out of his gloves, a thin gap where there wasn’t any between them. They were practically everywhere. Nightmare could even see a couple of stray ones on his feet, which were surprisingly bare.

It was much worse than he thought. That only increased the importance of fixing things.

“How…how did—when, when did this start?” Nightmare asked, eyes flicking over to Cross, who shifted, but only shook his head.

“I’m not sure.” Cross’s voice was quivering, on the verge of full-on sobs and it hurt Nightmare to hear. “He didn’t…he tried to keep them hidden, the idiot, so I wouldn’t know, until they started on his eye and he couldn’t hide them anymore.” He swallowed. “I know they hurt him. They itch and he has a habit of picking and scratching at them, which only makes them worse, and I try to tell him that but he does it anyway and—” He cut himself off, and Nightmare looked away as he wiped a hand across his eyes.

So…when did this start? Not sure of the exact date or time, but Nightmare’s going to go out on a limb and guess it would’ve started shortly after he corrupted, all that time back. It was a painful thing to think about, but it made sense, even if he hurt just thinking about all those days Dream was in pain and didn’t tell anyone, just like…just like he always did.

Shifting, Nightmare slowly reached out, giving enough time for Cross to object, but he stayed silent, and so Nightmare gently set his fingertips on one of the flowers by Dream’s eye. He flinched when he saw Dream flinch, but only lightened his touch as much as he could instead of pulling away, like he wanted to. He didn’t want to hurt his brother any further than he already was.

The flowers were, surprisingly, soft to the touch, as if they were innocent of their cause, meant to be there. As if they weren’t harmful and hurting his brother and causing so much pain. It didn’t help that, on any other thing, any tree like they were supposed to be on, they would look beautiful and people would smile and appreciate them.

Nightmare took a breath and focused. The little, lone flower he was touching shifted as if moving in a wind that no one else could feel and glowed a pale golden colour. They left Nightmare feel, in a small and slow stream, what they held and represented. They couldn’t say why they were there, but they could share whose magic they held and that information made Nightmare pull his hand back like it had been burnt.

He stared at Dream, switching his gaze between him and the flowers and his hand, his eyes wide. His vision turned the slightest bit blurry and he blinked before any tears could fully form. It shouldn’t be possible. No. He…did he make his brother sadder than he thought? Did he do something else? Or…or was this just…how Dream was? No. _No._ He refused to believe that. That would be even more hurtful than watching his brother make his mistakes.

But if there was even the smallest chance of that being the cause, then he had to check it. He had to. Not just for himself, but for Dream and Cross and, heck, even Killer. He had to make sure it was a possibility, a 100% possibility, before saying anything and doing anything.

“What?” Cross was saying when Nightmare caught up and realized he was talking. “What? What’s wrong?” He had risen to his feet and was towering above Nightmare, seconds away from taking out his sword and threatening him if he didn’t get an answer.

“I…I have to check something.” Nightmare muttered, ignoring Cross. He moved his hand to Dream’s chest, above where the soul would be if it were summoned. He laid his hand gently down and closed his eyes, focusing again.

At first, there was nothing. Just the sound of Cross’s question growing in volume and Killer trying to calm him down, but those sounds grew gradually muffled, like Nightmare had put his head underwater. He would’ve thought that he had passed out or something, but he could feel his breathing and knew he was still awake.

Just…somewhere else.

Not here.

Not there.

Somewhere else.

Nightmare let himself float back, let himself be open to anything. If he could connect with the flowers, let them guide him to the truth of why they existed, then that would help. As he lay there, just breathing, just floating, he felt it.

Wisps of positivity. Of light, hope, happiness, love. Of everything good in the world. He felt it like it was his own, but he knew it wasn’t. He knew it was Dream’s magic, everything his brother represented and just was. He felt what the emotions were connected to, as well. Happiness, with Nightmare, before the first apple incident, with Ink and Blue, the first real friends he ever had. Hope, for the Multiverse, with all it’s flaws and stories, for Nightmare, who he longed to be friends, be brothers, with again, and for Cross, who lost so much. Love, too, for Cross, only Cross. The one who loved him above everything. The one who stayed despite everything. The one who saw Dream and no one else, no immortal thing that should be happy all the time.

Nightmare felt the urge to smile. He loved this part of his brother. He loved the feeling of it, the way it made his soul soar and shine with happiness, the way it could make others smile, even on their roughest days.

This positivity was Dream, whole, no doubt about it.

But…something was wrong.

It felt…drained. Hurt. It felt like there was barely any left, that even as he felt it, it was going away. It felt twisted, like it was turning back on its host, its owner, making them hurt and pick away at the negativity that surrounded them so much, as if as a sort of punishment for not being good enough.

Because that was the purpose of the flowers, the apple blossoms—to punish Dream for giving in, punishing himself for allowing his feelings to get the best of him and punishment for treating the one he loved so badly.

The flowers were created by Dream to hurt Shattered, a cycle of self-destruction that can’t be stopped.

Nightmare opened his eyes. More tears gathered in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks as a sob escaped his throat. His hand reached up to stifle the sound, before it caught the attention of Cross and Killer, but it was too late. He shut his eyes tight in order to compose himself somewhat, as the argument behind him stopped and there were hurried footsteps towards him and he was spun around, face to face with Cross once he opened his eyes again.

“What?” Cross asked, desperation coating his voice. His eyes held a hope that killed Nightmare to see, for he knew he would be the one to smother it. “What?! What’s wrong with Dream?!” He shook Nightmare when he didn’t answer. “Answer me! What’s wrong with Dream, Nightmare?”

Nightmare inhaled shakily. “The flowers…” He started, unable to raise his voice more than a whisper. “The flowers are made of—of positive magic.” He inhaled again, smoother this time. “ _Dream’s_ positivity, to be exact.”

Cross blinked, unable to process this. “…I don’t understand.”

“When Dream corrupted,” Nightmare attempted to explain. “he did so out of sadness, and hurt, and…tiredness. He viewed himself as not good enough to continue, growing more desperate to listen to that foolish hope that if he ate the apple—” Nightmare’s voice cracked on this part. “—then I would accept him again, view him as an equal again. He was wrong.” He shook his head. “I never, ever wanted him to do that, I just…” He trailed off, because this wasn’t about him.

Cross had let go of his shoulder and drawn in on himself. He hugged himself tight, looking small. Even his voice was small, betraying no emotion he was feeling. “What does this have to do with the flowers.”

Nightmare swallowed and started again. “The flowers are made of positivity, as I said. Dream’s positivity. They embody all of his happiness, his love, his hope—everything. They’re meant to represent everything he gave up when he ate the apple.” He glanced behind him, looking over his brother, who still looked to be in so much pain. “The reason why the flowers are there…is because they’re to act as a punishment, made by Dream and given to Shattered. It’s a punishment for every time Shattered thinks or feels something positive, a flower grows on him, made up of that positive feeling or thought.” He fell silent.

Cross shifted. “But…they hurt him.” He raised his head a little, looking behind Nightmare to Dream. “Why do they hurt him?”

Nightmare blinked. “My guess is that it's part of the punishment. Shattered is meant to be Dream giving up on positivity, so whenever he does something to tie him back to that or something like that, and a flower is formed, it hurts because he was supposed to have given up on positivity.” Nightmare’s voice went sad. “He wasn’t supposed to want to feel it anymore.”

They were silent for a while, taking everything in.

Then, Cross’s head snapped up, a sort of manic hope in his eyes that was worse than the hope of before. “That punishment…you can stop it, right?” He rose to his feet, stumbling a bit. “You can still help Dream, right? Right?!”

Nightmare blinked. He stood up slowly as well. It twisted his heart to see Cross so desperate, so willing to believe anything. But he couldn’t say no, even if he didn’t want to feed into a lie of yes. “I…” He swallowed. “Our corruptions are different. Mine was formed through my hate and anger. My fear, as well. Dream’s was formed by his sadness and desperation. He was tired.” He wrung his hands. “I might have been able to take control of my corruption, but I have no clue how or if I could help Dream do the same.”

Cross shook his head, either ignoring his words or vaguely registering them. “That doesn’t answer my question.” His voice was unnervingly calm and he stepped forward, his sword forming in his hand. Killer stood nearby on the ready. “Can you help Dream, or can’t you? Yes or no.”

Nightmare swallowed, retreating a slight step, overly conscious of Dream lying behind him. “I…” He couldn’t answer. He wanted to. He really did. But because their corruptions were so different, it would take different circumstances for Dream to take control of his. And Nightmare didn’t know where to start with it. He didn’t know if the answer was yes or no, or even if there was a right answer.

Either way, his silence was answer enough for Cross. The guard stepped forward again, his sword twitching higher, but before he could do anything, he was manhandled away by Killer. They went a few feet away, where they started fighting, Killer never attacking back. He was letting Cross get all of his anger and heartbreak out. Nightmare was glad that he understood.

A small noise from Dream caught his attention. Nightmare turned and knelt beside him again, watching with another round of tears in his eyes as two more flowers appeared, the only two on his neck for now. They were small. He raised his hand and hovered over them, but never touched them, a feeling that they might be sensitive stopping him. Instead, he gently held one of Dream’s hands in his, taking care not to press or squeeze too hard.

A tear slipped out and onto the intertwined hands.

Love might be one of the strongest forces in the multiverse, but Nightmare would be damned if it wasn’t one of the cruellest ones too.


	40. Dream || Nothing, Then Too Much Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS IMPLIED SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, SELF-HATE, CONFUSION, IMPLIED DEPRESSION AND THE AUTHOR TRYING OUT A NEW STYLE OF WRITING.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

Imagine this: nothing.

Pure nothing, for as far as you can see. The nothing echoes back on itself, creating even more nothingness. It has no colour, and it’s so boring to look at but you can’t see anything else but this nothing so you have no choice but to look. It burns, sometimes, how much nothing there is. Other times, the nothing blends with itself, creating images that you know aren’t real, but can’t help to believe because they’re the only other thing besides nothing you can look at.

(Nothing count, including variations: 7

Improvement or worsening? Remains to be seen.

Words excluded: void, absence, nihility and nullity.)

This would be…fine, if that was all he’d ever known, ever remembered. That way he wouldn’t grieve over something that he hasn’t seen in who knows how long, wouldn’t miss the blue of the sky, the green of the grass, or even the terrifying sound of thunder.

But Dream once knew everything.

And that makes the nothing worse.

(It has been **~~1~~ ~~2~~** 3 **~~days~~** **~~hours~~** **~~weeks~~** **~~months~~** **~~minutes~~** …something since the nothing happened.

It will be **~~0~~ ~~0~~ ~~0~~ ~~0~~ ~~0~~ **∞ **~~days~~** **~~hours~~** **~~weeks~~** **~~years~~** **~~months~~** …something until the everything returns.)

Everything was happy. It was good. Everything is what makes life worth living. It is the smell of dew after a night’s rain, the frost on your window, the flowers that keep you company in the spring and summer, the everythingness that is your existence. It’s everything around you. It’s bright and brilliant and some people hate it when really, they’ve been taken by the nothing and the nothing is clouding their vision and destroying the beauty that is everything.

(Everything count, including variations: 5

…Nothing count: 2

Worsening.

**~~they’llbeangryhe’llbeangrythey’llbeangryhe’llbeangry~~ **

Words excluded: pivotal, **~~help~~** , paramount, **~~me~~** , compulsory, ~~**I**~~ , essential, **~~hate~~** , signifigant, **~~_nothing_~~** , and prime.)

Nothing is a curse.

Once, Dream was ~~happy~~. Good. ~~Essential~~ Everything. He helped the villagers, helped Nightmare, helped anyone who called for him and needed his help. He loved to love and tried his best to make sure others knew that he loved them so that the nothing doesn’t take them too. People loved him back, though sometimes they were a bit… ~~cruel~~ ~~malicious~~ ~~sadistic~~ …forward in telling him that. Sometimes they ~~scared~~ ~~hurt~~ ~~angered~~ …played with him, which was _~~**bad**~~_ nice of them.

But then that day happened and the nothing consumed him.

He couldn’t do anything. His senses were ~~gone~~ ~~empty~~ ~~broken~~ blocked—you never know how much you rely on them until they’re gone. Touch, taste, smell, those weren’t as bad to live without. Sight, hearing, speech, on the other hand, those posed a problem. But his magic was left in tact, and with it he could feel everything around him. Pain and suffering for so long that it all compiled into a stream of anguish that ~~hurt~~ ~~saddened~~ ~~frightened~~ was too much to feel at times. He didn’t have a choice but to feel it.

And that is the curse.

Dream feels everything outside the nothing, but he cannot help.

He is chained.

He doesn’t want to be chained.

~~(He deserves it, right?~~

~~It’s his fault, right?~~

~~He deserves it, right?~~

~~It’s his fault, right?)~~

The images were hard to ignore.

Anything is hard to ignore in the nothing.

But the images are the worst.

They appear so randomly that Dream is always surprised when they do. He has the initial reaction to jump back and prepare to defend himself, but then he remembers he can’t move and it’s just an image. He can’t predict anything about them. How close they’ll be, who they’ll be, what they’ll say. It’s nice once and mean ~~often~~ the next.

**~~(But he deserves it, right?~~ **

**~~It’s his fault, right?~~ **

**~~He deserves it, right?~~ **

**~~It’s his fault, right?)~~ **

The images usually appear as Nightmare.

It could be because they’re brothers and love each other more than anyone else. It could be because Nightmare’s the one who condemned him to this nothing in the first place. It could also be because it realizes that Nightmare is his weakness. It could also be that it realizes that Nightmare is the one who hurts the most.

No matter what, it always tells ~~truths~~ ~~lies~~ him something.

As an example:

“You know what I hate most about you?” Image Nightmare had said once, this time with a gaping wound in his chest that Dream could see the nothing through. It dripped an unknown substance. _Drip, drop._ “That you pretend.”

Image Nightmare always smiled, even if he was saying he hated Dream.

Always with a smile.

_Drip, drop._

“You pretend to care, and you pretend to not care. I’ve cracked the code.” _Drip, drop._ “The villagers—they could’ve killed you and you would’ve been the one to say sorry. You pretended that that was fine and you were oblivious to all the damage they gave you. Neil—he kept you company when things were overwhelming, never pushing and never judging. You pretended that you liked the worrying, that it helped you.”

Image Nightmare also knew things that Actual Nightmare didn’t.

Like how Dream felt about the villagers, Neil, Actual Nightmare.

About everything.

…

The wound had suddenly stopped dripping for the next part, making Dream listen to every word and lock them in place, burning them into his mind.

“And Nightmare—sorry, me, your own other half. The one better than you are in every single way. He could yell and scream and you would do your best to help him, to calm him down, pretending you weren’t scared. He could run you in circles, manipulating you, and you would take it all with a smile and a little laugh pretending the words didn’t hurt.”

~~(Image Nightmare was always right, that’s the thing.~~

~~He always spoke the **truth**.)~~

“And Nightmare could outright hate you with every bone in his body, all of the energy that makes up his life, and you would do nothing to stop him, struggling between the hurt that it produces and the need to change it, pretending that it was fine and it was right.”

Nightmare could kill Dream, and he would pretend it was the right thing to do.

He would believe it with his entire heart.

~~(He deserved to die, didn’t he?~~

~~He deserved to do anything to make Nightmare happy again, didn’t he?~~

~~…~~

**~~He deserved to die, didn’t he?~~ **

~~He deserved to hurt, didn’t he?)~~

Time was different in the nothing too.

Time was nothing in the nothing. It was nonexistent. It happened, or else the images wouldn’t be appearing so randomly yet so frequently. You could, probably, learn to tell the time with the images if you had paid attention from the beginning and kept track. Although, in doing so your condemning yourself to an even more excruciating existence as you them know how much time has passed since the nothing started but that doesn’t help you at all because you **can’t get out**.

(Time count: 4

…Nothing count: 3

Improving.

**whydoesthismatter?whydoesthismatter?whydoesthis**

Words excluded: **~~…who cares anymore?~~** )

Dream stayed in the nothing for so long he started to forget what the everything was like.

…

And if that wasn’t the saddest thing, he doesn’t know what is.

**(Is the sky usually Red or ~~Blue?~~**

**Is grass usually Alive or ~~Dead?~~**

**Were Nightmare’s eyes always Teal or ~~Purple?~~**

**Were Dream’s senses always Inactive or ~~Active?~~ )**

…

He will always hate the nothing, he decided.

…

Because when you finally get out of it, everything is too much.

**(TOO bright—**

**TOO loud—**

**TOO alive—**

**TOO present—)**

The ground was too wet and too cold. The air was too cold and too light. The sky was too light and too pressing. The sounds were too pressing and too fast.

Breathing was hard, even though it should be welcomed.

**(He didn’t need to breathe for so long, why start now?)**

Everything was confusing. It wasn’t supposed to be, this Dream remembered clearly. It was supposed to be…happy? That seems right. And good. And everything. It’s supposed to be…small things that…you look at with…something…it’s supposed to be present and alive and you’re supposed to feel fuzzy and warm when you see it. You’re not supposed to be whatever Dream is.

Everything was too much and it almost made him wish the nothing would come back and snatch him, drown him again so all he has to worry about is Image Nightmare, not Actual Nightmare, and that he should be feeling something when all he feels is numbness.

…

Nothing is bad, but when you’re in the nothing for forever, everything is too much, so what option is really the best? Drowning in the nothing, your emotions and senses limited, yet you can feel everything from outside clearly? Or being overwhelmed by the everything, your emotions back and alive again, your senses back and working again, yet you can feel nothing but panic and longing for the nothing?


	41. Ink || Art Block

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS THE AUTHOR VENTING ABOUT HER CURRENT FEELINGS.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Ink stared at the blank canvas in front of him.

His grip on the brush tightened.

The image he wanted to painted burned in his head. The colours were vivid and every line was clear and smooth, sharp. He knew every detail he wanted to put into it. He knew how he could do it…but he couldn’t get his hand to move.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

It should be easy. He’d been painting all his life; he’s good at it. Nothing’s stopping him from being able to paint this specific image. He should be able to sit down, pick up a brush and just paint. His hand should be moving to the rhythm of his mind, quick and with a level of expertise that only comes with practice.

But there was a block.

_Art Block._

The two words wrapped around him, holding his limbs in place. It held the image in front of every other thought, taunting him to just try and pick up the pencil or brush and then see what happens. It laughs at the frustration he feels as nothing happens and he sits for hours and stares at the whiteness of a blank canvas just begging to be painted.

It seemed silly that this thing would be the reason as to why he hasn’t painted in days, hasn’t finished anything for a month. It was a silly thing to be stopped by.

There was nothing he could do to stop it, however. He tried. He tried taking a break, finding other things to focus on instead. It didn’t work. Nothing worked. All that he could try now was sit and wait for this block to pass and hope that eventually he could sit down and paint again, without all the frustration of not being able to currently.

Even if he agreed to waiting it out, Ink still couldn’t help the anxiety that came with that. What if it’s a whole year before he’s able to paint again? What if his clients and the people that follow his social medias have to wait for that long until a new piece of work for him? So many things and not enough time.

He swallowed, finally letting the brush go.

He didn’t know why he even bothers trying anymore.

He should just wait it out. It’s a phase. It’s happened before (though maybe not for this long) and it’ll definitely happen in the future, but if he can’t do anything about it, isn’t it harmful to try and push himself to try and do it anyways? He’ll just feel worse and worse and then it’ll all cycle again.

Ink sighed.

“Ink?”

His eyes snapped open, immediately closing again at the sudden light that blinded him. He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the change. He looked over to the door of the room.

Error stood there, eyes ridden with sleepiness and a hand still lingering on the light switch. “Ink?” He asked again, rubbing at his eye. “Why are you sitting in the dark at 2 in the morning staring at a canvas?”

Ink blinked. Was he really trying to paint in the dark? He must’ve been more desperate than he thought. “Uh…” He tried for a grin. “Sleepwalking?”

Error stared at him blankly for a minute before snorting. “Sleeppainting is more like it.” He glanced to the canvas, a light frown on his face. “How were you even supposed to see what colours you were putting on it?”

Ink shrugged. “I have no idea what I was thinking.” He really didn’t.

“Of course you don’t.” Error sighed, turning around. “Whatever. Come back to bed. It’s late and there’ll be plenty of time for you to paint in the morning.”

Ink hesitated, glancing to the canvas. It hadn’t changed.

“Ink.” He looked back at Error, who had turned back around when Ink didn’t move to follow him. The other glared at him. “You’re coming back to bed, even if I have to drag you there myself. Got it?”

Ink chuckled. “Got it.”

Error searched his face, looking for something that he apparently found. He nodded. “Good.” He turned back and started walking down the hall, raising his voice as he went. “Now, I’m going to complete my quest for a glass of water and I better see you in the bed when I return or so god help me—” His voice faded as he got too far away.

Ink chuckled again.

It didn’t seem like he had much choice in the matter.

He paused at the doorway, looking back at the canvas that still called to him. Shaking his head slightly at himself, he shut the light off and started back to the bedroom. Error would be irritated if he lingered any longer.

Besides…

No matter what happens, what his feeling may be of the matter, Ink could wait until he was able to paint without feeling so blocked. He knew it in his heart. Until then, he was lucky to have his friends, his family and, of course, Error to help him get through it.

Ink smiled.

Yeah. Everything would be fine.


	42. Queerplatonic Drinkberry || Chaos While Shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS FLUFF AND THAT IS MOSTLY IT.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

Blue turned from the cart, only to lock eyes with a grinning Ink and the eggplant he was holding up.

"No."

Ink pouted. "I haven't even said anything yet."

"You were going to." Blue shook his head, ignoring the smile twitching at the ends of his mouth. He wasn't going to give Ink the satisfaction of making him smile at a stupid immature joke.

Again.

For the fifth time already.

He gave Ink another look and his squish sighed, a drawn-out _Fiiiine_. "Thank you." With the threat of the joke out of the way (for now, at least. When they move aisles he was sure there would be another one), Blue glanced at his list. They still needed to get lettuce—but that was right beside him, so he grabbed it now and placed it in the cart, crossing it off. Now all they needed was cheese, milk, apple juice and...that's it.

Great. Then they can all go home, put the groceries away, make Dream drink some water and rest so that he gets sober, maybe even watch a movie before going to bed tonight. That'd be nice. Although, they'd have to find a balance of horror and comedy elements for Ink, romance and sadness for Dream, and adventure for Blue. It'll be tough but—

Hey, wait a second.

Dream was in his thoughts, but a glance around proved that he wasn't in his sights.

Blue froze for a moment. This was like a nightmare becoming reality for him. He should never have let Ink persuade Dream into getting drunk, even if it was funny to watch. If he hadn't, then they wouldn't be out this late getting groceries and one of them wouldn't be wandering off drunk, not thinking rationally and in a very, very vulnerable state—but also.

Ink was supposed to be watching Dream.

...He must've cursed them all when he asked that of him, knowing that his squish didn't have the best memory and was definitely not the best person to put in charge of another living thing.

"Ink."

Ink looked up when Blue called his name. "Yes?"

"Where'd Dream go?"

Ink froze, a deer caught in the headlights vibe coming off of him. "Uh...well...he may have said something about being bored and he may have, perhaps, disappeared out of the aisle?"

Blue stared at Ink.

Ink stared back, sweating.

"So Dream said he was bored and left?"

"Yes."

Blue put his hands together in front of his mouth and inhaled. "Okay, let me rephrase that." His hands fell to point at Ink, palms pressing together harder as his frustration grew. "Dream, who may I remind you is drunk, thanks to _somebody_ , said he was bored, walked away with you knowing he was drunk and that leaving him alone in a store is probably a bad idea...and you let him??"

Ink looked away, rubbing the back of his head. "Well...it sounds bad when you say it like that."

"It's bad no matter how I say it!"

"Okay, fine!" Ink threw his hands in the air. "I'm sorry for letting Dream out of my sight, is that what you want?"

"...it's a start."

"Well, there you go. I'm sorry." Ink crossed his arms, rocking back on his heels. "Don't see how that helps right now. Dream's still missing."

Blue blinked. "Right, yes." He turned to grab the cart and started to walk towards the end of the aisle. "Let's go find him." At the end of the aisle, there was still no sign of Dream. Other people were browsing around, but no yellow-clad skeleton with a crown on his head. And a golden blush. And visibly drunk.

Blue turned to Ink. "Are you sure you didn't see where he went?"

"I'm sure. He left my sight when he rounded the corner."

Blue sighed. "Alright." He looked around a bit more before pointing to a random aisle. "Let's start over there—"

"BLUE!" Dream suddenly shouted, making Blue whirl around, only to be met with a mouthful of fur as something was pressed into his arms. He stumbled under the new weight, but wrapped his arms around it and pulled back, meeting the orange eyes of a cat, one that had a distinctly happy expression on its face.

"Where'd you get a cat, Dream?" He heard Ink ask.

Lifting his head, Blue watched as his other squish giggled, replying "At the Pet Shop, silly." As if it was obvious. Which, well...it kind of was. But...

Blue frowned. "The...the Pet Shop down the street?"

Dream nodded happily, seeing no problem with what he was saying.

Blue just stared back.

Ink picked up his thought process. "You left the store? Dream, you weren't supposed to do that."

Dream blinked, tilting his head. "Why?"

"Because you're drunk."

"Yes. But it was only down the street."

"Maybe, but you still shouldn't be walking around by yourself when you're drunk."

"Wait," Blue said, cutting into the conversation, even though he was grateful that Ink took over his lecturing duties for now. "I agree with Ink about you leaving the store, but how did you get the cat, exactly?" With the cat in one arm, he pointed to himself. "I have the wallet."

"I walked in, found Arson, and left."

Ink blinked. "Arson?"

Dream glanced at him. "Yes. That's his name."

"You're naming a cat Arson?"

"The most beautiful thing in the world is watching fire burn." Dream said seriously, reaching to take Arson back.

Blue let him. "But Dream." He waited until his squish looked at him. "I have the wallet. How were you able to leave with Arson if you never paid for him?"

Dream didn't give him an answer, just looked at him blankly while scratching Arson under his chin.

"HEY!" Blue startled at the shout, again whirling around as a woman with two security guards approached. She had an angry look on her face. When they reached the trio, she pointed at Dream and Arson. "That's the guy that stole one of our cats!"

The guards moved to step forward.

Blue raised his hands, stepping between them and Dream. "Whoa, hold on!"

"Don't hold on!" The woman hissed. She was wearing one of the vests the workers at the Pet Shop wore. "He walked into the store and completely ignored us when we tried to tell him he couldn't just walk out without paying."

"I'm sorry about that, but there seems to be a misunderstanding here." Blue stepped forward again as the guards tried to move past him. "My friend here is drunk, and before you say anything, I know it was a bad idea to let him go off on his own, but I'm sure that he didn't mean to steal one of your cats."

The woman sniffed. "Well, if that's the case, if he gives our cat back, or you pay for it, then I guess I can let you go with just a warning." She glared at Blue. "But if he comes into the store alone again, he will be arrested on the spot."

Blue nodded, letting his arms down as soon as the guards stepped. "Okay." He turned to Dream. "Dream, pass me Arson—"

"No."

Blue paused. "What? Dream, we only came to get groceries. I know you know this. Maybe in a few days, we can go back and get him but for now, he should go back."

"No." Dream shifted, clutching Arson back to his chest defensively. "I'm not giving him back. I already took him out of the shop, so he probably thinks he'll be staying. Giving him back would break his heart."

"Dream—"

"Blue." Dream stared at him, eyes looking watery and big, and was his mouth trembling at the corners—

Oh no...not the puppy-dog eyes.

Blue quickly looked over to Ink in a panic, asking him silently to do something. Ink shifted and scratched at his neck, glancing from Dream to Blue to Arson and back to Blue. "I mean..." He smiled sheepishly. "...I wouldn't mind getting a pet?"

Blue's face fell to a neutral position. "Not. Helping." He glanced back to Dream, whose puppy-dog eyes had doubled. Clenching his teeth, he looked down to Arson, who looked to be reflecting his carrier's eyes. Muttering a curse under his breath, Blue broke.

He turned back to the worker and her security.

* * *

That night, when they were all back home and Ink and Dream were in bed already (Dream had fallen asleep in the ride home and Ink crashed the minute he laid down), Blue sat down on the side of the bed. He smiled at his two squishes sleeping and looked over as Arson jumped up and settled in between the two.

Dream shifted, subconsciously reaching up and placing a hand on him.

Arson looked over at blue, a smug look on his face.

Blue glared at him. "Yeah, yeah. Don't look at me like that."

With that, he joined the pile and turned off the lights.

* * *

The next morning, Dream was sitting on the couch watching a show with Ink and Blue when Arson jumped up and settled in his lap. He blinked down at the new member of the household.

"Hey, when'd we get a cat?"

He was very confused when Ink started laughing, Blue just sighed, and Arson started purring.


	43. Lux & Nightmare || Uncle-Niece Bonding Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS CRINGEY FLUFF
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

"Simp."

His niece's comment made Nightmare pause, hand still on the doorknob. He turned slightly, meeting the mischievous gaze of Lux. She grinned and on any other day, directed at anyone else, he might've even been proud at how evil it looked.

For now, though, it made his eye twitch.

Not breaking eye contact, he pushed the door, making sure it was fully closed. The click echoed in the hallway. Neither reacted.

"I'm sorry?" Nightmare asked slowly, forcing a smile on his face.

"You're a simp." Lux's grin grew. "I heard you on the phone, talking to your boyfriend." She crossed her arms, smug. "You're a big ass simp."

Nightmare narrowed his eyes, irritated at her behaviour. It was bad enough Cross had brought her here for him to "watch" (as if they knew that was going to happen—he wanted nothing to do with the brat), but now she has to insult him, acting as if she owned the place and could say whatever she wanted?

The nerve of that...that...gah, he couldn't even come up with an insult to call her back!

He was too tired to deal with this, Nigtmare decided. Doing the grown-up thing, he turned and started to—

"Walking away? Wow. Didn't take you for being scared to deal with a girl talking smack to you. What? Are you a simp and a pussy? What has the "King of Fear" become these days?"

He stopped.

Heathen.

There.

He found the perfect word to call his niece.

He turned around again, barely three steps away from where he started. Lux stared back at him, a challenge in her eyes.

He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be listening to her. She was a child, barely even a teenager! He was hundreds of years older. Matureness was practically written and sewn into his bones at this point. What was she going to do that he would ever be affected by?

"Aw," She leaned forward, hands clasped under her chin, batting her eyes mockingly. "is wittle Nightmawe too afwaid to talk back? Awe his feelings huwt? Does he need some hugs?"

His eye twitched stronger this time.

"I'm not afraid of you." Dammit. He sounded too defensive. He was trying to show her he couldn't be talked to like that, lot edge her on. Judging by her laugh, she heard it too. He gritted his teeth. "I'm not."

Lux—no, sorry. The little heathen made a show of rolling her eyes. "Suuure..."

"I'm not."

"I believe you." She most certainly did not.

Nightmare took a deep breath, standing tall. "I'm not afraid of anything."

"Everyone's afraid of something." Lux—heathen shrugged, eyeing him with a smirk. "You just so happen to be afraid to fight little girls. Not your fault."

His fists clenched tight enough that if he had skin, he would've drawn blood already.

Before he could do anything he'd regret, he took a deep breath. "I'm not fighting any little girls, whether I'm afraid of them—which. I'm. Not—or if I'm not. Which I am." He spoke as calmly as he could. "I'm an adult. Adult's don't do that."

"Yeah." Lux—heathen—oh, forget it, he'll just stick to her name—nodded, making Nightmare look at her suspiciously. Was she...agreeing with him? "You _are_ old." Ah. Nope. She was just making another comeback.

"I'm not old." Nightmare said, even though he did admit he kind of was. But he didn't want to be called it if it was used in that tone.

Lux scoffed. "Uh, yeah you are."

"No."

"Yeah."

" _No._ "

" _Yeah._ "

"No—why am I arguing with you about this?!"

Nightmare felt like screaming.

Was this hell? This certainly felt like it.

"Yeah, you are." Lux ignored Nightmare's question to himself. "You're older than boomers, dude. That makes you like a...mega super boomer. Maximus." She paused, apparently needing to think over if the insult was good enough, before nodding. "A maximus mega super boomer."

Nightmare gritted his teeth. "Whatever. I shouldn't be arguing with you. You're just a kid."

"A kid who's bored. And your niece."

"Unfortunately," Nightmare muttered, before shaking his head and stepping back. "Again: Whatever. I'm going to go get something to eat. Away from you." He turned. "Goodbye."

He kept his guard up as he walked, but Lux kept silent. When he turned the corner, he paused for a minute before relaxing. Finally, his patience rewards him. Now he was free to do whatever he wanted. And he was hungry, he realized—that had just flown out of his mouth because it was the first excuse he could think of.

Hm. You know what he wanted?

Wine.

A big fat glass of red wine.

He needed it after the conversation he just had.

He started walking again.

"JUST REMEMBER: YOU'RE STILL A SIMP!"

He froze.

That brat.

She screamed that for the entire castle to hear.

All thoughts of hunger and wine disappeared as Nightmare growled, tentacles flaring. He turned and rounded the corner again, speed-walking his way over to Lux, who turned around into a run in the other direction, giggling like mad. He followed suit, chasing after her.

"COME BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE SHIT—"


	44. Dream & Nightmare || The Day He, I, We Died

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ONESHOT CONTAINS CHARACTER DEATH.
> 
> READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

The negativity in the air was growing stronger. It darkened the skies of multiple AUs, made people slow to a stop and stare blankly around, forgetting for a moment what they were just doing. Other people screamed, too much anger for a small instance. Others sobbed, crying out for people they missed, begging for anyone to come and help them. All around, people were hurting, good memories nothing more than just that—a memory, the calming and positive effects gone.

It was sickening.

Nightmare felt all of it. Every fear, every mourner, every heartbreak. He let it all wash over him like a wave, numbing any of his own feelings. The weight of it all coiled in his chest and made it hard to breathe, like the negativity from the Multiverse decided to come back and kill its guardian. He forced himself to breathe, forced himself to absorb the power he was being granted, let it travel and spread throughout his body like electricity, a tingling feeling left behind.

He clenched his hands, extra energy thrumming through his soul. He wanted to run, to find people to mess with, AU’s to massacre. He needed to calm down, find a way to get it all out so that he could go home and relax, hang out with his boys.

But…

Another pulse of energy jolted through him, stronger than all the rest. Nightmare froze, a mixture of joy and dread—his own emotions—spiking through all the noise. It felt like something clicked, something breaking and ever so slowly beginning to die off and never be felt again. One side of the scales was dropping, with nothing to replace the weight that had been keeping it level.

Positivity was dying.

But he couldn’t bring himself to take the steps back home. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his boys that he did it, they won, negativity now reigned supreme. They were free to live as they wanted, without being called evil. He couldn’t bring himself to look away from the person whom he had sacrificed to get this ending.

He had ever wanted to kill Dream. Never. It had been an unspoken rule among his boys that they weren’t to fatally injure the guardian of positivity, just wear him down and deal some damage. They mostly left him to Nightmare—which was good. He knew just how much to hold back to avoid killing him, knew when to deliberately pull back and stop attacking.

This didn’t stop him from hurting Dream. Be it through words or actions, he knew that somewhere in their fights his brother had always gotten hurt in a way he couldn’t fix. Maybe he could’ve, would’ve, once way back. But he wasn’t that person anymore. It wasn’t his job to help Dream, to console him after battles and hug him through rainstorms.

He had grown up.

Dream needed to see that.

Despite not wanting to kill Dream, something had happened in their last fight. He wasn’t sure what. One minute Nightmare had been thinking about pulling back, already pulling at the magic necessary to teleport away. Dream had been getting quite unsteady and was stumbling into attacks he could’ve easily dodged. This was the time to call it quits and let him rest for a few days.

Then something bubbled and spit inside him, like a volcano on the verge of erupting. This caused Nightmare to pause and created a lull in the battle. He had vaguely registered Dream dropping to his knees, taking the time to catch his breath, staring up at him in confusion. Nightmare had focused on himself, a hand placed on his chest, where the volcano laid, frowning softly.

The silence had stretched, enough that Dream had found the strength to speak. “Night, what’s—” He never got to finish. It was only a couple words, spoken softly, gently, concerned, but they were enough for the eruption to take action.

The red hot feeling of burning rage, hate, with an undertone of deep misery, overspilled.

Nightmare wished he could say that he didn’t remember the next part, but he did. He remembered a desire overriding all of his rational thoughts and promises, to himself and others. He knew, on a subconscious level, that part of him that still remembered and still didn’t want to see his brother dead, that this new desire was wrong and was an alarming thing. He felt sick thinking back on it now, shame riding up his throat.

It was a desire to kill.

Unfortunately, there was only one other person there with him.

Dream.

In his brother’s defense, he did make an effort. He fought back and dodged as much as he could. He wasn’t prepared to face someone actively trying to kill him, though, and that tripped him up. He had tried calling for Nightmare, trying to help him calm down and stop attacking (he must’ve realized something was wrong and Nightmare was himself yet also not himself and was a bit lost right now).

It didn’t work.

The next thing either of them knew was that Dream tripped and a tentacle pierced right through his chest, right through his soul.

And like that, the volcanic negativity had disappeared, leaving just Nightmare behind. Once in his right mind, he quickly retreated his appendage, but didn’t dare come any closer to Dream, who had dropped to the ground. He only watched as his brother coughed and coughed, hands shakily clutching the gaping hole in his sternum.

He only watched as his brother struggled to lift his head and meet his gaze, eyelights flickering bright gold to gold to bright yellow to yellow to light yellow to pale yellow and eventually growing white and fuzzy.

He only watched as Dream smiled.

“It’s okay,” were the final words of the guardian of positivity, Dream, his brother. Then his eyelights disappeared entirely and he slumped sideways, physical body all but dead.

Nightmare watched, blank.

He was slow to catch up, slow to gather the will to move, to walk across the clearing and kneel beside his opponent. He held himself back from reaching out and gathering the body into a hug. If he did, he knew he would never find it in him to let go and he would starve himself to death. So, instead, he slowly looked over Dream, taking in every detail possible, committing it to memory.

He expected guilt to bury him in its clutches, but it never came.

He felt numb.

He should feel something. He should be angry at himself, how he even thought for a second he had control over whether Dream lived or died, by his hand or not. He should be in misery, how his brother died right in front of him and he watched and was the culprit. He shouldn’t be sitting here, staring blankly at the body in front of him, soul too absent to feeling anything.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

But they did.

Nightmare reached out, laying a forcibly still hand on Dream’s shoulder. The body was still solid, so signs of breaking into dust yet. It was also cold, gathering from the small amount of white bones his hand was touching. Of course it was cold.

It was dead.

Nightmare blinked and hovering above the body was a little golden orb of flames. It wasn’t as bright as it used to be, giving off a faint glow that barely illuminated them both. It was smaller, too. The orb flickered weakly; bright gold to gold to bright yellow to yellow to light yellow to pale yellow—

It was Dream, back to his origins.

And that’s when it finally sunk in for Nightmare that his little brother was dying right in front of him and he could do nothing to stop it.

All at once, the numbness disappeared and panic took its place. Nightmare sat on his knees, hovering over the body, eyes widened in helplessness and locked onto the orb—spirit. He had to do something. He didn’t want to be alone. He couldn’t be alone, not anymore.

Without thinking, his hands went towards the spirit, hoping to gather it close so that Nightmare could—

It flinched away.

A sharp pain went through his soul—heartbreak, he dimly recalled, bring his hands towards his chest and holding them there. He hunched in on himself. Dream flinched away from his hands. Dream was scared of him. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that, just that it hurt.

His vision started to blur with tears.

Dream’s spirit slowly drifted closer, probably confused as to why Nightmare was crying.

He closed his eyes as it grew closer until it was in front of him.

Warmth made him open them.

He gazed in surprise at the orb. Its glow had increased, although he could feel it start to drain away even faster because of that. Dream had recognized him. It was sending out waves of love for Nightmare, radiating the determination he had seen frequent Dream’s eyes so many times in their battles. There wasn’t an ounce of hate or confusion over what had happened, just pure love. Pure forgiveness.

A sob broke through his mouth, words finally starting up as if a dam had been broken. “Dream…” His voice was raw and hurt. He knew Dream noticed, as the love increased, a feeling of reassurance’s coming too.

Nightmare swallowed. “Dream.”

The orb floated forward.

“I-I’m…so sorry.” Nightmare said, breaking into another sob at the end. He inhaled and wiped at the tears. He pretended he was looking his brother in the eye. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to kill you. Never. I’m sorry.”

The orb gave a pulse of light, wavering slightly as it used up more of its energy.

“Don’t do that. Stop.” His voice came out as just a whisper now. “You’re using up your energy.”

Dream was stubborn and gave another pulse of light.

“Dream.”

The orb shook, dulling into a gray colour. Nightmare furrowed his brow in worry, again reaching up and cupping the flame in his hands. Dream couldn’t keep this up. The waves of love started petering out, being replaced by the growing negativity again. The warmth they gave stayed.

Dream mustered up the strength for a final pulse, growing smaller and smaller until it was just a speck. There was no love this time, no more warmth, but rather a whisper. A question. It was faint, the voice tired, but it was undoubtedly Dream.

_“It’s…okay?”_

The speck waited as Nightmare blinked.

Funny. Dream had said that to calm Nightmare down before and now here he was again, the same words, asking if it’s okay that he died and left him behind. So funny. Before it was a reassurance, to let Nightmare know that it was alright, even though it wasn’t. Now he was asking permission to let go and die. From Nightmare.

Why?

Nightmare was the one who killed him. He should be scrambling to get away, putting as much distance between the two of them as possible. He should be jumping into the afterlife or whatever, relieved to get to rest. But he wasn’t. He was here. Waiting for Nightmare to tell him it was okay.

…What did Nightmare ever do to deserve such a kind brother?

He started chuckling, though they weren’t happy. They were filled with an aching sadness that couldn’t be put into words. He looked at the speck, looked at his brother, trying to imagine his patient and awaiting look, bright golden eyes sparked in curiosity and worry—not of himself, but of Nightmare—and he tried to smile.

“Yeah.” He whispered, talking through the tears. The pain was forced down. “It’s okay.”

The speck disappeared.

Nightmare watched the space where it used to be, silently breathing for a long time. Before he realized it, his shoulders were shaking and he thought for a moment he was laughing. But that would be cruel; his brother dying, and he laughed? No. He was crying. When he realized that he could hear the sobs and felt heavy as the weight of grief and pain and sadness and guilt all hit him at once.

He collapsed onto the body in front of him, felt it start to dust. He held on tightly anyway, fingers grabbing fistfuls of shirt. He buried his head in the neck, not caring anymore about not toughing the wound.

“It’s not okay.” He whispered it over and over, even when he was left holding nothing but clothes and dust covered him.

Positivity was dead.

Nightmare felt like he somehow died right along with it.


End file.
